Kim Possible: The Next Generation
by MrDrP
Summary: When Ensign Kim Possible's best friend Ron Stoppable visits her on the Enterprise D, an adventure of galactic proportions begins. Now incorporating the events of The Naco On The Edge of Forever and an all new bonus conclusion. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

A/N: It seems especially fitting to launch _KP:TNG_ this week. _Kim Possible_ was just renewed for a fourth season because of the show of support from the show's loyal fans. And, as many of you know, the original _Star Trek_ was picked up for a third season and _Enterprise_ a fourth due to fan support.

I don't know whether this is a "cross-over" or "fusion" or what. I'm not calling it Sci-Fi because, as Wade noted, that disrespects the genre. More to the point, I'm merely interested in telling a good KP story and I thought the worlds of _KP_ and _TNG_ would mesh beautifully. I hope you'll agree.

I've planned a full "season" of action, romance, intrigue, adventure, and humor for you. And, since readers of _Nacho Boy and the Dragon Lady_ seemed to like receiving a new chapter on the same day each week, I intend to adhere to a similar schedule. Mark your calendars: _KP:TNG_ will be posted on Fridays.

It's a great pleasure to leave Spacedock with campy as my beta and proof-reader. Thanks, friend. Mr. O'Brien will be beaming those nacos to you in short order …

Do let me know what you think. If you're registered with FF net and you leave a review, I promise you a response.

Finally, CaptainKodak1, G-Go, Mattb3671, WesUAH, Zaratan, and yours truly have formed an FF writer's collaborative called GWA. Please check out our story _The Darkness Within_.

Lawyer's Line: if you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; if you saw it on _Trek_, it belongs to Paramount. If you saw it on _Panda Girl_, it belongs to me. Ah, to have a revenue-generating property of my own …

* * *

I.

Ensign Kim Possible waited impatiently at the foot of the transporter pad, barely able to keep herself from bouncing up and down.

Chief Miles O'Brien smiled as he worked the controls. "I'll have your visitor here in a moment, Ensign," he said in his genial Irish brogue.

Kim was bursting with excitement. It had been almost a year since she'd seen him. And now he was going to visit her aboard _Enterprise_. "Thanks, Chief. It's just that Ron's been my best friend since we were four …"

"And you're excited about his coming here. I don't blame you; I bet he's excited, too."

"Totally. He thought it was so the drama when I was assigned to _Enterprise_." She remembered how he'd been almost as proud as her father. And Dr. James Timothy Possible had designed the _Galaxy_-class starship.

The transporter began to make the familiar whine, then the air began to shimmer, then …

"Whoooaaah! That is so cool!" Ron Stoppable exclaimed as he materialized on the pad.

O'Brien grinned. Transporter newbies came in two types: those who screamed, and those who thought it was the neatest experience of their lives. He always liked the latter kind.

"K …" Ron began to say joyously when his pants fell down; somehow, his belt was lost in the process. "Awww man!" Despite all of the marvels of 24th century technology, Ron Stoppable had suffered a life-long plummeting-pants problem, one that had now followed him into outer space.

Chief O'Brien gawked. He'd seen many things in the transporter room, but this was a first.

Kim laughed, then ran onto the pad and hugged Ron while the chief looked away, not particularly interested in seeing the visitor's boxer shorts. "It's so good to see you, Ron!"

"Same here, KP. Uh, mind if I find another belt?" he asked, pulling away and reaching into his duffel bag. After he remedied his transporter malfunction, he looked at his friend. "The uniform suits you, Kim."

"Why thank you, Ron," Kim said, as her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. "Let me introduce you to Chief O'Brien."

"Pleasure," the Irishman said, extending his hand.

"Same here," Ron responded with a grin. "But I think you owe me a belt."

"Don't know if I can help you there. But I'll buy you a drink in Ten Forward when Ensign Possible's on duty and you need something to do."

"Sounds good," Ron said, before asking "Uh, let's say I didn't remember what a Ten Forward was?" It sounded vaguely familiar, but Kim had been telling him so much about _Enterprise_ in her communications that he couldn't keep things about the ship straight.

Kim slipped her arm through his. "You'll see! After you get settled in, I'll give you a tour of the ship."

As Kim and Ron exited through the doors, the Chief shook his head. _Best friend, huh. Looks like a boyfriend to me. Think it might be time to start a little pool…_

II.

"It's so big, Kim!"

"It's the largest ship in the fleet, Ron," Kim said before rattling off a list of impressive statistics.

Ron was struck by the number of people and the varieties of species on board. He'd grown accustomed to diversity when he moved to San Francisco after high school, but this was different. Everyone seemed more equal out here in outer space. Ron tried to absorb what Kim was telling him, but was having trouble. He'd never been good with facts. And he was enjoying being with her. He'd missed her terribly since she'd graduated from the Academy and been posted to _Enterprise_. Now they'd have two weeks to catch up.

"I still can't believe you invited me, KP."

Kim smiled. "Who else would I invite? It's not like Dad hasn't been all over this ship, Mom hates space travel, and the tweebs and photon torpedoes? So not going to happen. Besides, you're my best friend in the galaxy, and I missed you."

"Same here, KP. I'm just glad you were the top performer on board ship your first six months and got to have a guest. Not that I'm surprised; you are the girl who can do anything, after all."

"Thanks, Ron. Though I have to tell you, on this ship, I don't feel all that special. The people here are incredible. Starfleet's finest. I am still so honored to be here."

Ron was surprised by the slight lack of confidence he heard in Kim's voice. That wasn't like her. "KP, as far as I'm concerned, _you_ are Starfleet's finest."

"Thanks, Ron. You know, you're turning into quite the charmer!"

"Turning? The Ronman has always been the charmer. Known across the Alpha Quadrant for his bon-diggity moves!"

Kim slapped her best friend on the back and chuckled. "C'mon, Ronman, let me show you your quarters."

III.

As Kim and Ron were walking down the corridor to Ron's quarters, Kim cast an admiring glance over at her best friend.

"You know, Ron, I have a confession."

"What's that, KP?" he asked, his curiosity aroused.

"I thought you'd hate the transporter. A lot of people are so weirded out the first time they do it."

"Nah, it was the same feeling I got when I ate those Atomic Crunchies when I was a kid."

"By kid, you mean someone 22 or younger," she said, a skeptical look on her face.

"Well, kid at heart. I mean, hey, KP, it's good stuff!"

"I cannot believe that a galaxy-class cook enjoys eating candy that makes his hair stand on end!" Kim said.

"You better believe it!" Ron replied with enthusiasm. "And it makes my toes tingle, too!"

"You are so weird, Ron," Kim said with an affectionate grin.

"Yeah, but you like me anyway."

"Yes, I do." Kim acknowledged before she reached over and mussed up his hair. "Well, here we are. _Chez_ Stoppable." Kim opened the door and entered, followed by Ron.

Kim watched with satisfaction as Ron, in awe, took in his home for the next two weeks. Since a VIP suite was available, he'd been assigned one. The quarters had separate sleeping and sitting areas; the latter even included a dining and food preparation space. But what really caught Ron's attention were the huge windows that afforded a magnificent view of the heavens.

"This is badical!" Ron exulted. "I'm moving in permanently!"

Kim chuckled. "I hate to break the news, but if you decide to stay longer, they're going to downgrade you."

"You don't have a room like this?" he asked.

"I've got a roommate, remember?"

"Yeah, I know you mentioned that. So if there are two of you, your quarters are larger, right?"

Kim laughed. "Ron, this ship is big, but it's not that big. And I'm just a junior officer," she said, sitting down on the couch and curling her legs up. "I have a windowless cabin that is barely large enough to accommodate two beds, two bureaus, and a shared bath. But enough about that. What's in the box?"

Kim was inquiring about the large case Ron had brought along with his duffel bag. "In here? Treats!"

"Treats? What kind of treats?"

"Tasty treats for my best friend," Ron answered with pride.

"You transported food from Earth? How?" Kim knew that Ron's trip to rendezvous with _Enterprise_ had taken the better part of a week.

"The latest in gourmet food equipment, KP. It's a portable stasis chamber. Keeps everything perfectly fresh for up to a month. I've got some delish delectables in here for you," he said with a grin. "Chef Ron plans to make sure his best friend has some bon-diggity meals while he's here."

Kim beamed as she contemplated the prospect of home-cooked meals by Ron. He'd become an incredible cook and was now employed as a _sous chef_ in one of San Francisco's finest restaurants; she had no doubt he'd be the head chef in a great place soon enough. "Spankin'! When do we eat?"

"Well, when do you want to?"

"Hmmm. I'd like to right now. But you've traveled a long way, so you shouldn't have to cook. Besides, I'd like you to meet Tom tonight."

"Great," Ron said, feigning enthusiasm. He still hadn't decided how he was going to deal with the boyfriend situation.

"And, gee Ron, I feel terrible, but tomorrow's our three-month anniversary. Would you be terribly upset if I had dinner with Tom? He said he had something special arranged. Then I promise I'll be yours the rest of the time you're here."

"Sure, KP," Ron said with a friendly smile, but disappointment in his eyes. _ I travel 200 light years to see her, yet Rondo once again takes a back seat to the latest hottie. Some things never change. Why am I even thinking about her that way … It's like high school all over again._

"You rock, Ron," Kim said. But then she saw the look in his eyes. _He's never looked that way before. Or … have I just never noticed?_ she thought. Suddenly, Kim found herself feeling very bad about what she'd just done. "Ron, I'm sorry. I can't believe I just did that. You came all the way to see me and …"

Ron looked at Kim and saw something in her expression. He wasn't sure what it was. But in all the years he'd known her, she'd never expressed regret for setting him aside for another guy. Yet now she was. He found he couldn't stay angry with her. "Hey, KP. No big. I'll just have to go find some hot babe who enjoys fine cu-zine!"

Kim laughed. "Fair enough, Romeo." But much to her surprise, Kim realized she hoped he wouldn't.

IV.

"Ron."

He noticed the serious tone of voice. "Yeah, KP?"

"Please, do NOT touch anything, okay?"

"Me? Touch?" he asked, sounding offended.

Kim arched her eyebrow. "Two words, Ron: Utopia Planitia."

Ron laughed nervously, recalling the visit he'd taken with Kim's family to the Starfleet construction facility in Mars orbit; the ship Ron had managed to unmoor was still something best not discussed. He took a sudden interest in his shoes.

Kim couldn't describe it, but Ron suddenly seemed more awkward than he'd been in years. She decided she'd been too sharp and put her arm around his shoulder.

"Hey, sorry for harshing on you, Ron. It's just that I've had a lot on my mind lately."

"'S'kay, KP," he said, his normal goofy grin returning. "That's why I'm here. Everyone knows I don't use mine, so you can store some stuff up here," he joked, tapping his head. "Besides, you wouldn't want me accidentally firing a phaser or something. Though I do still have the highest score ever in Klingon Mayhem 4000."

"I thought Felix Renton had that honor," Kim gibed.

"Well, if you wanna get all technical, yeah. And it vexes me so."

Kim chuckled. "C'mon Game Boy," she said as they walked to the turbolift.

Once inside, Kim instructed the lift to take them to the bridge.

Moments later they arrived. The doors slid open. And Ron's jaw dropped.

V.

"Ensign," the Klingon growled.

"Sir," Kim replied. "Please let me introduce my guest, Ron Stoppable."

Ron gulped. He'd met Klingons before. But the diplomatic corps types that wandered into the restaurant where he worked in San Francisco were … smaller. This one was a full-fledged Warrior. Six feet four and all muscle. Sort of like Mr. Barkin, but even scarier.

"Worf. Nice to meet you," the imposing figure said in a manner that seemed more threatening than welcoming.

"Uh, yeah, same here," Ron managed to squeak out in reply.

Worf looked disapprovingly at the scrawny human male. He knew that Ensign Possible was going to have a visitor – her best friend, no less – and assumed that so spirited a woman, a woman with the makings of a great warrior, would have more impressive companions. He was reminded that one should never make assumptions about people.

Kim looked at Ron. "I've told you about Lieutenant Worf. He's the chief security officer. I report to him."

"Ensign Possible is a most valuable member of my division," Worf said. "Few Starfleet officers are as skilled in the martial arts as she."

Kim's cheeks reddened. "Thank you, sir," she said.

_Thank you, sir?_ She said it like she was surprised to be recognized. Ron remembered when Kim would have said _No big!_ as if it was perfectly natural that she'd know sixteen styles of kung fu. This wasn't humility, something Kim always had trouble with. It was diffidence. _Weird_, he thought.

"This is my duty station when I'm on the bridge," she said, indicating the sweeping, elegant console.

Ron looked at the station, clueless as to what was before him, sure only that he wouldn't touch anything. Still, he was impressed. "Badical."

Kim began leading Ron away from Worf, much to her best friend's relief.

"This is the science station, this is communications. Over there is engineering …" Kim explained how all of the ship's functions could be directed, monitored, and coordinated from this one place. She then brought him down to the trio of command chairs.

"That's where the captain sits," she said, indicating the center chair.

"Is that the captain?" Ron asked. The person he was looking at didn't look like the man Kim had described in her letters.

"No, I am not. I am the Second Officer. Commander Data," the chair's occupant said, rising and extending his hand. "Welcome to _Enterprise_."

"Ron Stoppable. Nice to meet you."

"Thank you. It is nice to meet you, too."

Ron had never seen a human with Data's complexion or eye color before. "So, Commander, uh, where do you call home?"

Kim felt slightly uneasy as Ron began to converse with the one of the senior officers on such familiar terms. Still, she couldn't help but be impressed with how at ease he appeared to be with Data, especially after his discomfort with Worf, which she decided wasn't all that odd given the Klingon's menacing countenance. Ron really had grown more confident since she last saw him.

"Home? My home is _Enterprise_," he replied. Then he looked at Ron. "Ah. 'Where do I call home?' A colloquialism. You wish to know my planet of origin. Dr. Soong created me on …"

Ron's eyes bugged out.

"… Ah, you were not aware. I am an android."

"Are you playing me?" Ron asked, challenging the second officer.

"Playing?" Data asked.

Kim groaned. She adored her best friend, but sometimes wished he were a bit swifter. Sometimes he just wasn't the quickest draw, though in recent years, she'd come to learn that Ron was a lot smarter than people, himself included, gave him credit for. A large part of his problem was he was lazy, though that, too, seemed to be changing.

"Ron," Kim said testily, "Mr. Data really is an android."

"Coolio," Ron enthused. "I come from New Middleton on Mars. You can call me a Martian. Just don't call me a cab."

Data's head twitched. "Ah, I see. Ancient Earth humor. Very good!" He then let out a stilted approximation of laughter. "I hope you will be able to tell me more jokes while you are with us, Ron."

"Love to!" he said with a big grin, before turning to Kim.

She shook her head, but smiled. Kim then pointed out the operations and navigation stations, then asked him to follow her. She brought him up close to the view screen.

It had looked large enough from the turbolift; from here it appeared immense. And the clarity of the image was incredible. It was like looking through a giant window. Ron gawked at the planet, with its continents and great oceans, below.

"Wow, KP. This is so cool!" After a few more moments of looking at the screen, Ron realized he had to do something. He turned around, remembering that he saw a door. "Uh, is that the bathroom?"

Just as Ron asked his question, a distinguished-looking bald man of about 60, followed by a burly, bearded man and a woman with long, dark, curly hair, emerged through the door Ron had just asked about.

Data, looking at Ron, answered, "No, Ron. That is not the bathroom; it is Captain Picard's ready room."

"Bathroom?" the captain asked. "What is this all about, Mr. Data?"

Kim cringed.

"Ensign Possible's guest was inquiring about a bathroom, sir. I believe he has to relieve himself."

Will Riker looked at Kim and flashed a mischievous grin. He was clearly enjoying this.

"Uh, sir, Captain, this is my friend, Ron Stoppable. He's the person I invited for ship leave …" Kim said, feeling about two feet tall.

Jean-Luc Picard, standing ramrod straight, looked Ron over; Ron responded by unconsciously adjusting his posture. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Stoppable."

"Uh, thank you, Captain. This is a badical ship you've got. Really cool," Ron stammered. "Bon-diggity. Big." He knew he was babbling. "Sorry."

"Indeed," the captain turned from Ron and went to his chair, Data rose and took his station at the ops console and Riker and Deanna Troi took their places.

It was all Kim could do not to grab Ron's shirt and drag him off the bridge.

VI.

"He wanted to … In my ready room!" Picard marveled at what had just transpired.

"You have to admit, sir, it was pretty funny," Riker offered, unable to stop grinning.

Picard looked at Troi. "Counselor, any thoughts?"

"Perhaps you could put an 'occupied' sign on the door?" she suggested with a chuckle.

"_Merde,_" the captain grumbled.

VII.

They rode the turbolift in silence. Kim was a cauldron of emotions. She was embarrassed for herself and for Ron. She was angry with him for being so … Ronnish. She didn't need this, not when her promotion review was in process. At the moment, she was tempted to push him into an airlock. And then to make things more complex, there was the whole matter of the transporter incident.

Kim Possible was still struggling with the unexpected sensation she'd experienced when her best friend's trousers fell to the deck; it was anything but platonic. When she had it, she thought it was just an odd reaction upon seeing him after so long. Yet the feelings it stirred had remained with her, which surprised her, since Ron wasn't a guy, he was, well, Ron. And then there was the matter of Lieutenant Tom Carter, her boyfriend.

Ron's emotional state was much clearer. He was dejected. He'd been on board for just a few hours and he'd already managed to make a fool of himself, and by association Kim, in front of all the bigwigs on the ship. He'd been thinking about Kim a lot lately; the reaction he had when he saw her in her form-hugging one-piece uniform merely confirmed what he'd finally admitted. He wanted to be more, much more, than 'just friends' with his life-long best friend.

Ron knew Kim was seeing someone, but he came on board, ready to try anyway. He'd secretly crushed on her in high school, but what he'd been feeling recently was different. But now? He'd be lucky if she still wanted to talk to him; he knew she couldn't afford to have a loser – he hadn't thought of himself that way in a very long time – messing up things for her, not if she wanted to have a successful career in Starfleet. And Kim hadn't even snapped at him, which she normally would have done by now. Instead, she was giving him the cold shoulder.

Kim looked over to see Ron staring at his shoes, his shoulders hunched, a hangdog expression on his normally buoyant face. He looked miserable. This wasn't the way their visit was supposed to start. Her desire to be angry with him vanished.

She reached over and put her hand on his shoulder.

"It's no big, Ron," she said. "Really."

"No, KP, it is. I don't belong here. I made a fool of myself. And even worse, I made you look bad. I'm sorry. Maybe I should just beam down and catch the next transport back to Earth," he said, sounding utterly defeated.

Kim couldn't understand what was going on with Ron. He had always been so resilient, never one to quit. She wondered if the months away had put so much distance between them that she no longer knew him as well as she once did. That prospect made her feel sad. Not wanting to accept that possibility, she decided that something was bothering him and she would find out what it was. She put her other hand on his other shoulder so they were facing one another. "Okay, shapeshifter. Who are you and what have you done with Ron? This sure doesn't sound like my best friend."

"Maybe you need a new best friend, KP," he said morosely.

"STOP!" she ordered the turbolift.

"Look at me, Ron," Kim demanded. "Now …"

Reluctantly, he complied.

"… I'm not going to stop being your best friend because of what happened on the bridge. It's so not the drama. Besides, to be honest, it was kind of amusing."

"Ya sure, KP?" Ron asked, not convinced.

"Yes, Ron I am," she answered, thinking of the expression on Commander Riker's face. "And more importantly, I'm still sure that you're my best friend," she added, before giving him a hug. Which, she had to admit, felt good. Very, very good.

VIII.

Ron had positioned a chair so he could enjoy the view of the stars streaking behind the ship, which was now heading to its next destination. He was surprised that the crew weren't all huddled around windows and portholes stargazing; the sight was incredible. That anybody could ever become so accustomed to this that they just ignored it amazed him. He wondered if Kim felt that way.

Kim.

He sighed. Everything seemed to be back to normal. They were tight. They were best buds. And she had a boyfriend, this Tom guy he was going to meet in a little while.

Ron couldn't blame her. She was out here, he was in San Francisco. She was beautiful and smart, he was goofy-looking and not particularly bright. Ron found himself wishing his parents had sprung for some illegal gene resequencing to boost his IQ and physique. Not that any of that would have helped – it wasn't as if he'd had the guts to tell her what he was thinking these past few months. He kept delaying that, worrying about their friendship, worrying that she would laugh at him. Now she was involved with someone else, which made things so much more difficult.

Of course, now that he was feeling completely inadequate, he wouldn't have to worry about how she'd react. There was no way Ron could tell Kim that he had realized he was in love with her.

IX.

Kim let her hair down and combed it out. She was glad she had her quarters to herself; Yori had yet to return from her duty shift, though she was supposed to join them in Ten Forward later in the evening.

Kim looked in the mirror, considering her hair and the outfit she had chosen, and decided that she liked what she saw. Then she looked at the dresser, at the hologram of her with Tom Carter. He was a high-flying lieutenant on the command track and a real hottie. They'd been together for almost three months.

Then she looked at the other hologram on the dresser, the one that had been taken on the day she graduated from the Academy. She was smiling happily, but Ron …

Kim picked up the picture and looked at it. She'd never really noticed it before, but Ron was beaming with pride, looking like the happiest man in the solar system.

She sat on her bed, looking at the image, her thoughts returning to the transporter pad, to the conversation in Ron's quarters, to the hug on the turbolift, before she sighed. _What am I thinking? I'm with Tom. And this is … Ron._ Kim thought. _Sure, he is kind of cute in his own way. Wait … did I just think that? Ron Stoppable. Cute? Well, maybe he is. But he sure isn't BF material. Right? Wait a minute, why I am I even asking that question?_

Kim flopped down onto her bed and let out a groan. Things had gone from normal to awk-weird at warp speed.

_TBC …_


	2. Chapter 2

I was floored by the response to Chapter One of _KP:TNG_. Thanks to you all, especially The Odd Little Turtle, Ultimate Naco Topping, daywalkr82, mattb3671, Acaykath, Jokerisdaking, Zaratan, campy, surfost, The Incredible Werekitty, Commander Argus, The Halfa Wannabe, kemztri, JPMod, swiglo3000, Ace Ian Combat, whitem, JeanieBeanie33, jasminevr, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Paulo-j1983, Moss Royal, Theta-Alpha-One, conan98002, happyendingsmaybe, Yuri Sisteble, Dixon-San, Louis Mielke, pookie-poo, Ezbok58a, Mobius97, vanillalilies, Emerald Dark Knight, Scoutcraft Piratess, Cabriel, nmorgendorffer and Taechunsa, who left reviews.

Special thanks to campy for his usual invaluable beta and proofreading services.

Here's the review sitch: you submit one, you get a personal reply.

Here's the plug sitch: If you haven't done so yet, please check out _The Darkness Within_, a collaborative effort I'm part of. You can find a link to the story on my ff net author's profile page. There's also a link there to some KP art I've posted on line, including a _KP:TNG_ promo piece masterfully enhanced by EddieButlerIII. Eddie also created an incredible trailer for _Darkness_; you'll find a link for that there, too. Thanks, Eddie!

Here's the legal sitch: if you saw it on _KP_, Disney owns it. If you saw it on _ST:TNG_, Paramount owns it. Otherwise, it's mine.

* * *

I. 

Will Riker sat at his desk, reviewing personnel files. This was the toughest part of his job: making the final call on who would be promoted. The decision was supposedly made by a Starfleet review board, but they always acted on the recommendation of the commanding officer, and in Picard's case, he relied on Will Riker's judgment. Jean-Luc Picard had yet to overturn a single one of his first officer's decisions regarding a promotion.

He was looking at the file of Ensign Kimberly Ann Possible. She'd come on board with a great deal of promise; Riker remembered thinking she had the same cock-sure confidence he'd possessed at the start of his own career, the assuredness that had brought him to his current position where he could actually decline captain's chairs secure in the knowledge one would be made available when he finally decided it was time to move on from _Enterprise_. Will Riker enjoyed a supreme luxury: Starfleet was willing to accommodate his preferences.

Will knew that Kim had excelled at the Academy, been a cadet leader, and earned the praise of many of her instructors. Even Boothby the seemingly omniscient and definitely wise gardener had submitted a note to her file, suggesting Picard keep an eye on her. But the young woman who came on board almost a year ago was not the woman whose file Riker was now reviewing. She continued to work hard; she was incredibly efficient, hence her winning the ship-leave prize which had inadvertently brought Riker one of his biggest laughs in years – the 'Captain's john' was already being spoken of throughout the ship – but Kim Possible was no longer possessed of outsized confidence. These last few months in particular she seemed a bit more the follower, too concerned about what her fellow officers thought of her. The natural sense of command that he thought he saw upon her arrival must have been a mirage. It was known to happen before. The Academy and a starship were two different environments.

He frowned, not wanting to make this decision; he liked Possible. But he really saw no other choice. Kim was not ready to be elevated to lieutenant. And more to the point, she would not be trading in her gold operations uniform for a red command one. Someday she might be a ship's chief security officer, based on the confidence Worf expressed in her fighting abilities. But right now Will Riker did not envision Kim Possible sitting in the big chair, not unless something changed. And if she didn't make this cut, he knew the chances of her ever commanding a starship would be greatly reduced, because most of Starfleet's captains had been promoted to lieutenant on their first try.

Riker made his notations and moved on to the next officer's file; he had to complete his work in the next two hours if he was going to be able to go to the poker game and still be ready to discuss his evaluations with Deanna the next day.

II.

Kim and Tom arrived at Ron's quarters to pick him up; the threesome would go to Ten Forward together. Kim made the introductions.

Ron had discovered that working in the restaurant business had helped him to develop useful skills, like hiding an intense and visceral dislike for someone he'd just met. Ron credited part of that feeling towards Tom Carter to jealousy on his part. But he was also sure that his best-friend-in-danger radar had gone off; this guy was 500 light years of bad road for Kim. Ron didn't know why, but he was convinced that this was definitely not the right guy for her.

Still, he smiled and made chit-chat with the lieutenant. Ron was willing to concede that Tom was incredibly good looking and seemed quite smart. And he had great hair. Kim had always gone for good-looking guys with great hair. _Guys like Josh Mankey_, he thought ruefully. _A year and a half of crushing for nothing. Man, she took that one hard._

The trio settled in at a table near one of the windows in Ten Forward, saving a seat for Kim's roommate Yori, who was supposed to join them later in the evening.

Ron looked around, noticing the bar. "Anybody want something to drink? I'm buying."

"Ron, you don't have to do that," Kim protested. "You're my guest!"

"Hey, KP, remember? I'm the only one here with real money. You guys just get those dopey Starfleet credits. I've got actual real live gold-pressed latinum to my name."

"Are you sure you aren't part Ferengi, Ron?" Carter said with a smirk as he looked distastefully at him. "You know, money isn't everything. There are more important things in life."

Ron bristled at Carter's smug superiority. "That's true, Sport. But it sure doesn't hurt to have some cold hard Cochranes to help make some of those more important things possible. Whaddya want?"

Kim stifled a giggle. She had forgotten how feisty Ron could be at times. "I'll have a Rigelian Mango smoothy."

"Tom?"

"Andorian Synthale."

"Be right back."

Ron wandered over to the bar. Data was sitting there talking with the bartender, who, for reasons he couldn't articulate, struck Ron as being the most unusual woman he'd ever seen.

"Hello, Ron, how are you?" the android asked.

"Doing fine, Mr. Data," he said genially.

"Please, call me Data. You are my friend."

"Hey, thanks, dude," Ron replied.

"Dude?" Data queried.

"I think it's old Earth slang; 20th century," Guinan suggested, then looked at Ron. "Am I right?"

"You are indeed," Ron said with a grin.

"Well, I'm Guinan. And if you're a friend of Data's, consider yourself a friend of mine."

"Geez, this ship is great. I can just feel the love!" Ron said enthusiastically, forgetting all about Worf's hostility and his introduction to the captain.

"You always this weird?" Guinan asked rather straightforwardly.

Ron, seeing Guinan's warm expression, took no offense; indeed, he took her comment as an invitation to be open. "Hey, 'Never be normal' is my motto," he replied.

Guinan offered a Mona Lisa smile. _This one is worth keeping an eye on_, she thought.

"So, what would you like?" she asked.

"Rigelian Mango smoothy, an Andorian synthale and a real San Francisco Lager for me, if you've got one."

Guinan's smiled turned into a real grin. "So, you think you can handle real alcohol?"

"It's the only kind to drink, my friend. None of this synthobooze for me. And don't get me started on replicated food …"

"Ron, you sound okay to me. When you have some free time, come back and visit. I'd love to talk some more."

"Will do, Guinan," he said as he turned to take the three drinks back to the table.

III.

Tom Carter watched Ron with amazement, then looked at Kim. "What's he doing, Kim?"

"I think it's called talking, Tom."

The dashing lieutenant shot a worried look at his girlfriend. "With the second officer? And the captain's confidante?"

"Jealous much?" Kim knew that one of Tom's strengths – and weaknesses – was the effort he put into cultivating his superior officers.

"Kim," he said, sounding a trifle annoyed, "Aren't you worried that he'll say something … inappropriate?"

"What do you mean, Tom?" she said coolly, as an almost primal urge to defend Ron kicked in.

"C'mon, Kim. Everybody on board already knows about the 'Captain's john …"

Kim bristled.

"…. Hey, I know he's your friend and all, but he could say something that could reflect poorly on you."

"It's so not the drama, Tom," Kim said, frowning; she didn't like Tom's implied criticism of her life-long best friend. Ron, Data, and Guinan seemed to be having a friendly enough conversation. She watched as Ron took the tray and headed towards her and Tom.

"Howdy, Starfleet people, I have your libations," Ron said, as he returned to the table and passed out the drinks.

"What are you drinking, Ron?" Tom asked, not recognizing the color of Ron's synthale.

"San Francisco Lager, my favorite beer."

"Is that a new synthobeer?"

"Nope. The genuine article. It's the only stuff I drink," Ron said, not noting the look of surprise on Tom's face. It was a well-known fact that Guinan was not in the habit of freely distributing alcohol to anyone who asked, yet this newcomer talked with her for two minutes and was drinking real beer. "I'm not big on synthetic food and drink," Ron explained. "I like what I put into me to be real. Real vegetables grown under the sun, real wheat from a field, real beef from a cow that's been properly fed …"

"You eat meat!" Tom asked, incredulity dripping from his words.

"Uh, yeah," Ron said. "Hope that doesn't offend you."

"Well, I don't mean to be rude, Ron, but that's really, well, barbaric."

"Hey, Tom, I got teeth," Ron said opening his mouth. "See the sharp ones? I'm an omnivore." Ron looked at Kim. "Hey, KP! Dig it! I remembered a big word from high school English!" Then he turned back to Tom, who scowled at Kim as she giggled. "The way I see it, the question isn't whether I eat meat; it's how that meat's raised. There are some badical free-range ranches in Montana that let cattle wander around, have nice happy lives and when the time comes, slaughter them swiftly and painlessly."

"Slaughter," Tom said with distaste. "Listen to yourself, Ron. These are living things!"

"Exactly. I don't eat it, what's the other option for the cow? O-blivion. Everybody's a vegan, there are no more cattle, sheep, whatever. None of these animals would ever even get to live. I kind of like being alive, don't you? Sounds kind of, oh, barbaric, to say the way someone else is going to end your existence offends me, so I'd prefer you didn't exist at all."

Kim watched with fascination as Ron was holding his own in this argument. This was the Ron she expected to come on board, not the one who inexplicably thought he wasn't good enough to be her friend. She had seen him grow in confidence once he enrolled at the Culinary Institute and began doing something at which he could excel. That was why she'd been surprised at how forcefully his old insecurities had flared up earlier in the day; she still wished she knew what was at the root of that.

She knew that ron could be passionate about this subject. Like most humans, Ron had grown up a vegan. However, when he enrolled at the Culinary Institute, he began to learn more about traditional foods; once he tried a filet mignon, he was hooked. He then convinced Kim to try meat, which she finally agreed to do, though only with great reluctance. The pleasure she took from eating a good steak had come as a revelation. But she hadn't had a good steak, or any kind of meat, since she came aboard _Enterprise_ and left Ron's cooking orbit and would never have told Tom about her past eating habits, knowing how much he'd disapprove. Kim knew that Tom wasn't going to be convinced by Ron's argument.

"What do you think, Kim?" Tom asked, wrapping his arm around her.

"Well, uh, I think you both make interesting points, and …"

"Kim, you surprise me! We don't eat meat!" Tom said. He then looked at her with horror. "Don't tell me you've eaten meat?"

Ron didn't like the way Tom said "We." He was talking as if he owned Kim. And he was disturbed that at that point Kim didn't say something like "Don't talk to me that way. You are so not the boss of me," which is what the Kim he'd grown up with would have said in this situation; instead, she just shifted uncomfortably in her seat. He was about to say something when the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Yori.

Ron rose from his chair when Kim's roommate approached, unable not to notice that she was extremely attractive.

"Hello, I am sorry I am late," she apologized. "Mr. Worf decided to run an extra security systems diagnostic."

"Wouldn't want the ship to be overrun by rabid meat eaters," Tom joked. Kim looked uneasy, Ron rolled his eyes and Yori looked confused.

"Nothing to worry about, Yori," Kim said, with forced brightness. "The boys were just debating the merits of eating meat."

"Meat eating. How … exotic," Yori said.

Ron was getting miffed. He didn't like Tom's hostile superiority and was disappointed by Kim's diffidence. "You got a problem with it, too?" he asked snippily.

"No. I personally do not eat meat," Yori said. "But that is because it does not meet my needs. My diet is designed to maximize my fighting efficiency."

"So if I could convince you that a 12-ounce New York strip steak would help you get in some extra licks, you'd eat one?" Ron asked.

"Licks?" Yori asked. Ron had a penchant for using outdated slang.

"You know, land punches on whoever you're fighting."

"Oh, I see. Then, yes," Yori replied matter-of-factly. "If you can show me that your steak will help me be a better security officer, I will happily try one."

"KP, I think I'm liking your roommate!"

_Spankin'_ Kim thought, without any enthusiasm.

IV.

Later in the evening, Yori turned to Kim and asked, "Have you shown Ron the holodeck yet?"

"No, I didn't have a chance to; I was saving that for tomorrow."

"Perhaps I might show him?"

"I think that's a great idea," Tom suggested.

Kim looked at her guest. "What do you think, Ron?"

Ron looked at Kim and Tom. He so wanted to be with Kim. But she'd made her choice; she wanted to be with Tom. _I should do the right thing and let them enjoy some time alone. It's not like I even have a chance with her_, he thought. _Better get used to her being with this guy._

"Sounds badical, KP."

"Badical?" Yori asked.

"Yeah, bon-diggity and radical," Ron said with a grin.

"Bon-diggity?"

"Yeah, Bon and, uh, diggity …" Ron said hesitantly. "It's good, real good!" he added brightly.

Yori chuckled. "You and your Old Earth-style phrases."

"Hey, I'm a walking dictionary of human language," Ron said, getting up. "Now let's go see this holodeck thingie."

Kim felt herself tense as she watched Ron and Yori leave. _I have Tom_, she thought. _So why is it bothering me so much that Ron and Yori seem to have just hit it off?_

V.

"I'll see your 50 and raise you 25," Riker said, his face a mask of indifference.

"I will see your 25," Data responded, pushing his chips towards the stack in the center of the table.

"Me too," Deanna added.

"I fold," Worf growled.

"I'm in," Geordi LaForge, the Chief Engineer, added, tossing in his chips. "So I hear I missed the comedy show on the bridge today …"

"I'll see your 25 and raise you another 25," Beverly Crusher, the ship's Chief Medical Officer said, before chuckling. "The captain and I had dinner tonight and he could talk about nothing else!"

Riker shook his head. "I have never seen anything like it in all my years in Starfleet. I almost fell over laughing," he said as he added yet more chips into the pot.

"He is a buffoon," Worf said sharply.

"Don't you think you're being a bit harsh, Worf?" Will asked.

"No, I do not. Someone like Ensign Possible should not be associating with fools."

"Worf!" Deanna exclaimed. "It is not our place to say who should and should not be the friends of our officers. Besides, I think he is good for her."

"Oh?" Will asked, his curiosity piqued.

Deanna had watched Kim and Ron's interactions on the bridge, then in Ten Forward, where she'd been having a drink with Reg Barclay. She'd been struck by many things. The emotional turmoil that clearly engulfed Kim, the depth of feeling on the part of Ron, the lack of recognition on either's part of how the other really felt, and the doubts each felt about their current state of feelings. But what struck her most was the almost primal level of attachment between the two; the only word that came to mind for her was _imzadi_, the intense emotional bond she shared with Will Riker. Remarkably, the one between Ron and Kim was even deeper and stronger. She wondered if the physical absence of one could have negative effects on the other.

"Yes. You know, Will, I think he would do anything for her." Unspoken was Deanna's belief that Tom Carter would not. She did not care for the lieutenant, believing him to be pompous and self-important; tonight only sharpened her feelings. From Ron, Deanna sensed protectiveness towards Kim, a desire to see that she was well and happy; from Tom, possessiveness, pure and simple. Yet, it wasn't her place to interfere with crew members' personal lives. Deanna said no more on the matter, and her poker buddies knew she'd offer no more; that would be a violation of her professional standards. She would, however, talk with Will tomorrow when they discussed the promotion evaluations.

VI.

"This is incredible!" Ron exclaimed as he looked around. He really felt like he was at an ancient shrine in Kyoto, and not on a holodeck on a ship traveling at Warp 2. Ron took in the temple grounds, the lovely buildings, the stately trees, the serenity that enveloped the place. It was all incredibly lifelike.

"This is one of my favorite spots on Earth," Yori explained. "Let me take you to a special place."

"I'm with ya."

Yori surprised Ron by hooking her arm through his. She led him to a stone bench amidst a copse of cedar trees; the spot seemed magical, bathed in soft sunlight that filtered through the leaves above. Despite Ron's inner turmoil over Kim, he began to relax.

Yori told Ron about the temple's history and of the town where she had grown up. She did not tell him about her training at a secret ninja school nor her current secret assignment with Starfleet's Section 31.

"So, if I may be so bold, Ron, are you involved with anyone back on Earth?"

"Huh?" he asked, momentarily lost in the beauty of his surroundings. "Uh, no, I'm not."

Yori flashed him a very inviting smile. "That is quite a surprise. With your sense of humor and your cooking ability, I would have assumed you would have been claimed long ago."

Ron was amazed. This woman – this galaxy-class babe – was hitting on him. On him! He grinned awkwardly. "Nope. I'm still at large and loose on the streets. Restaurant keeps me busy and all that." _Besides_, he thought, _my heart already belongs to someone. Someone who doesn't want it …_

"Ah, then perhaps I may claim you …" Yori said coquettishly before she leaned in and surprised Ron with a kiss.

VII.

_This is so wrong! _Kim insisted to herself. She could barely pay attention to anything Tom was saying to her. All she could think of was Ron. Ron being with Yori._ Ron's my best friend. I should be happy for him that Yori seemed to take an interest in him. She's smart and she's beautiful … and I can't stand the fact that she's alone with my best friend! I'm going to kill her!_

"… So I said to Commander Riker, who really seemed to appreciate my observations …"

_I am not jelling! I am so not jelling! Why would I jell? It's just Ron. Ron's my best friend. That's all, right?_

"… There must be a better way to maximize the efficiency of the …"

_Okay, we've been best friends for 18 years. Why should I feel any differently now than I did before? I just missed him, that's it. I haven't seen him for a year and … Ohmigosh. He's going to go back in two weeks. And I don't know when I'll see him again. Stop being a drama queen and get a grip, Possible! But what if he goes back to Earth and, and meets someone and I lose my chance with him while I'm flying around the galaxy? It could happen … Deep breath. Deep breath._

"… So he said he'd seriously consider my recommendation!" Tom finished, obviously pleased with himself. Then he noticed his girlfriend. "Are you okay, Kim?"

"W-what?" she responded, roused from her thoughts. "Oh, I, I'm fine, Tom. I guess I'm a bit preoccupied. The promotion review and everything."

He smiled at her and put his hand on her arm. "I'm sure everything will work out, Kim. And even if you don't get promoted this time around, you'll have another chance to improve and get that new pip."

"Yeah, thanks," Kim said before it struck her. _Ron would never have doubted that I'd be promoted …'_ she realized. "Tom, I think I'd like to go back to my quarters, okay?"

"Sure, Kim. Let's go."

"No, I'll go back myself. I just need some rest. Good night," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek, before she got up and left Ten Forward.

Tom Carter watched his girlfriend walk through the doors, then turned and began looking around to see who else he might socialize with.

Behind the bar, Guinan watched, her placid expression concealing her thoughts and opinions.

VIII.

Kim found herself heading to the holodecks. She knew it would be rude to interrupt Ron and Yori, but maybe they'd just happen to wander out as she came by.

_No such luck_, she thought as she wandered down the corridor. She sighed.

Then she checked the status of the decks. Holodeck Four was free. She booked it and went in.

She looked around the black room with its glowing yellow grid before she began some breathing exercises. She rolled her shoulders, then flexed her arms. She stretched her legs. She felt loose and ready.

Not caring that she was wearing a casual evening tunic, leggings, jewelry and a scarf, she made a decision. "Computer, Possible Training One."

A ninja materialized and launched into a sudden attack, pivoting and throwing a kick at her.

Kim dodged the kick and dropped into a fighting stance. She slowly backed off, then caught the ninja off guard, knocking him off balance with a kick of her own. The ninja fell, rolled, then sprung to his feet and assumed a defensive posture while he surveyed the scene.

Kim looked at her opponent and extended her hand. "Bring it."

The ninja complied, throwing a series of punches, all of which Kim easily deflected.

After some more sparring, she spoke. "Computer. End program."

The ninja vanished.

"Possible Training Two."

A Klingon warrior appeared.

Kim grinned. This would be more of a challenge.

The Klingon, holding a bat'leth, sneered at Kim. "A puny human female dares to challenge me?"

"Hey big boy, how about you drop the toy and fight like a man? Or are you scared of a puny human female?"

The Klingon narrowed his eyes and hissed. Then he threw his bat'leth aside. "I will still defeat you."

"Big words. Often a sign of small … things!"

The Klingon, enraged, lunged at Kim. She was ready for the attack. Their fight went on for some time. Kim found this engagement more challenging and much more satisfying. It was a good way to work out her frustrations.

She was panting, sweat running down her face, her hair a mess. But the Klingon looked no better. Kim looked at her opponent, then smiled. "You're going down, Yori!"

_What did I just say? And why did I say it?_ she wondered.

The Klingon, noticing Kim's momentary distraction, moved to attack. But she had lost interest in the match and, just before her adversary landed a punch, said, "Computer, end program." The Klingon vanished.

Kim sighed, then sat down in the middle of the holodeck, cross-legged, her head in her hands, wondering how things had become so complicated so quickly.

She didn't hear the door to the holodeck open or the footsteps of the person approaching her.

"You know, if I had a bat'leth, I could cut off your head right now."

Kim turned around and looked up to see Guinan standing behind her.

She smiled weakly. "Hi. What are you doing here?"

"Something told me you might want to talk. You kick enough Klingon butt?" the dark-skinned woman asked as she sat down next to Kim.

"For tonight, yes." Kim shook her head. She'd been on board _Enterprise_ long enough to know not to bother asking Guinan why she chose to come to her at this particular moment in time.

"So, you want to talk?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." Kim threw up her hands in frustration. "Guinan, I am so confused right now."

"Let me guess. Dopey, goofy-looking blond-haired guy you've known since you were in diapers. Supposedly not romantic-interest material, definitely not for a smart, beautiful young Starfleet officer. Yet you can't stop thinking about him."

"Am I that obvious?"

"As obvious as Will Riker's intentions on Raisa."

"Wow. That is obvious!" Kim laughed, grateful for the release. Everybody on board knew of the first officer's amorous escapades.

"You trust him?"

"With my life, to be honest."

"You guys talk?"

"What?"

"You guys talk. You know, chit-chat. Big issues. Everything in between."

Kim smiled. "All the time and for hours on end."

"You have fun together?"

Kim laughed. "Yeah."

"You happy when you're around him?"

"Yes," she said with a smile that bespoke fondness. "Except when he does something so stupid like …" Kim began to offer examples.

Guinan cut her off. "Sounds like he's human. So he's got quirks. You do, too. But that's part of the package, what makes him Stoppable, right?"

Kim sighed, the fond smile returning. "Yeah, it does."

"You think he'd support you in what you want to do?"

"He always has."

"You think he's attractive." This wasn't a question; it was more of a challenge.

"That's the funny thing. I never looked at Ron that way before. But then …" she told Guinan about the transporter, the hug, her reactions when she now thought of Ron being with Yori. Then she blushed. "Guinan, I've actually found myself daydreaming about his … ears."

Guinan merely smiled. "I think you've got it bad, _real_ bad, Ensign. That's okay. You know, and I say this as your friend, you worry too much about what other people think. Don't. Don't worry about who they think you should be with or what you should do. You want to be with Stoppable, that's okay."

"But it's not that easy, Guinan. Okay, so maybe I'm crushing on Ron. But there's Tom. We've been together for three months," she said.

"And you and Stoppable have been together for nearly two decades," Guinan retorted.

"But that's different!" Kim protested.

"Really? What do you think being in a relationship – being in love – is all about, Kim? I don't want to spook you, but if he feels about you the way you feel about him, I think you and Stoppable have what it takes to go the distance."

Kim gazed at Guinan with a mixture of surprise and skepticism.

"Don't look at me that way. I've been watching people for a loooong time, so I know what I'm talking about."

_Go the distance. Me and Ron_, Kim thought. Unprepared to deal with that she changed gears. "How long?" Kim asked the bartender.

"Let's see. I first met humans back on Earth in the late nineteenth century …" Guinan answered. "But that's not the issue."

Kim sighed. "This is so complicated."

The bartender looked at the young officer. "Not really, Kim. It's as easy or as difficult as you want it to be."

Then Guinan got up, walked to the door and left Kim alone with her thoughts.

_TBC … _


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone for reading and especially to campy, mattb3671, surfost, kemiztri, Acaykath, daywalkr82, swiglo3000, JPMod, whitem, JMAN2.0, Ace Ian Combat, WesUAH, Zaratan, Cabriel, TexasDad, Mobius97, TAZER ZERO, Theta-Alpha-One, WhiteLadyoftheRing, conan98002, chefjet, Paulo-j1983, jasminevr, JeanieBeanie33, Dixon-San, Louis Mielke, happyendingsmabye, nmorgendorffer, Markv1.0, pookie-poo, Aldea Donder, Taechnunsa, Wanderer3, Emerald Dark Knight, and bluegman for reviewing.

Thanks also to campy for his indispensable beta and proofing work.

Remember: write a review, get a personal response. What a deal!

Looking for some seasonal fun? You might want to check out my other story, _It's a Ronderful Life._

_KP_ belongs to Disney, _TNG_ to Paramount.

* * *

I. 

_Captain's Log, Star Date 45051.3. We are heading to the Zygolon sector to determine why the sub-space communications relay has gone off-line. Remote diagnostics have failed to yield an answer to this mystery. Though communications in that region have not been affected due to redundant systems, Starfleet Command is understandably concerned about the failure of the relay, which was deployed just three months ago._

II.

Ron had been confused before. For example, high school mathematics had enabled him to experience confusion on an almost mystical level. But math-inspired confusion was nothing compared to the way he was confused by women.

He'd never quite understood them, which was odd given that his best friend was a woman. Of course, for most of his life, Ron had never thought of Kim as a woman but simply as his best friend, even if, objectively, he knew she was a woman. There had been the exception of when they were high school juniors and he'd found himself attracted to her and daydreaming of their dating, but he decided at the time that it was a combination of crush and raging male hormones and he set aside any ideas of him and Kim as an 'item.' Soon after, old habits and perspectives reasserted themselves and Ron saw her once again as his best friend.

That had changed. He now found himself thinking of Kim as very much a woman and wished she'd think of him as a man. He knew he might not be the smartest or best-looking guy around, but he thought loyalty and compatibility and the sheer pleasure derived from one another's companionship over nearly two decades should count for something. He'd been there for her for almost eighteen years, not because he was hoping for something in return, but because he cared about her and he knew she cared about him. They'd done so much together, experienced so much together over the years.

Kim had stuck by him, despite his weirdness, his goofiness, his laziness. She accepted him as he was – yet she never stopped encouraging him to do things he never would have tried on his own. He knew he was probably the only chef in San Francisco to have climbed Olympus Mons (that had been a bear) and gone solar sailing (that had been terrifying). Kim often got him to do things that scared him silly, but he kept doing them, partly to impress his friend, but also, because deep down he liked them and hoped someday he might be able to do extreme sports and the like without being scared. Ron Stoppable, it turned out, had two secrets: his feelings for Kim and his desire to be an action-adventure hero.

Unfortunately, the world of the 24th century, with its sprawling governments, behavior modification programs and Starfleet, left little room for heroes. And as for Kim, she always wanted to be with the hotties and the so-called leaders. Intellectually, Ron knew he should try to move on; otherwise, he would wind up feeling depressed and might very well damage his friendship with Kim, which he still treasured more than anything else in his life.

But knowing what he should do wasn't as easy as doing it. He'd found that out the hard way the night before when Yori had kissed him. _Talk about an opportunity to move on_, Ron thought.

Ron had been taken completely by surprise. One minute they were sitting on the bench, the next they were smashing lips. He'd first been shocked, then found himself enjoying himself. But that was because he was imagining he was kissing Kim. Once he realized he wasn't, he pulled away. He was flattered, but to kiss one woman while dreaming of another wasn't right. Ron felt Yori deserved better.

She said she understood when Ron explained that while he wasn't involved with anyone, he had strong feelings for someone and needed to first work through his emotions. Yori confessed her disappointment – then made clear that if Ron changed his mind, she was still interested.

III.

By the time Kim and Ron were getting ready for their breakfast, Will Riker had already been up and working for two hours. _Enterprise_'s Executive Officer may have had a reputation as a gregarious man with a fondness for womanizing, but he was also known as the man who made the ship run, and keeping a space-borne city operational took a lot of work. Riker was now sitting on the couch in his quarters, drinking a cup of coffee, and talking with Deanna Troi about crew evaluations.

Deanna was holding her padd, looking at what the First Officer had written about Ensign Possible. "I think you should hold off on this one, Will."

"Why?"

Deanna looked at her fellow officer, one-time lover and unparalleled friend. "Ron Stoppable."

"Her guest?" Riker's curiosity about the young man had already been piqued at the previous evening's poker game. Deanna Troi was the most perceptive person Will Riker knew and he felt he'd still believe that even if she wasn't half-Betazoid.

"Yes."

"How does he fit into this?"

"Did you know that Ensign Possible and Ron Stoppable have known each other since they were four?"

Riker shook his head.

"He wrote an unsolicited letter of recommendation to the Academy on her behalf. Just raved about all the things she had done during her life. It's really rather sweet. But what caught my eye was that he'd been by her side for every major achievement in her life until she was assigned to _Enterprise_."

"You're not saying that he's responsible for her success?"

"No," Troi said with a smile. "And neither did he. His letter was all about how his 'incredible' friend did 'amazing' things and how Starfleet Academy would be 'awesomely stupid' not to accept her."

That made Will smile. He approved of loyalty in friends.

"But here's what's interesting. Ensign Possible really has done a number of truly extraordinary things in her life. Let me give you an example: In 2362 the planetary weather system on Mars failed. Several groups of climbers were stranded on Olympus Mons in terrifying conditions. Professional teams, including Starfleet personnel, were sent in to save them. But there was also a fifteen-year-old member of the Martian Red Cross Mountain Rescue Squad on the scene. At great risk to herself, Kim Possible went in and saved one of the groups.

"The newsnets ate it up. Pretty, bright young woman braves the odds helping others."

"I vaguely remember that," he said. "It was a real feel-good story."

"Will, there was one thing missing in those reports. Ron Stoppable. He was there by her side. Look in the pictures. Nobody bothered talking to the apparently awkward, less-than-telegenic boy, but if you look at him, he's as scraped and bruised as Kim, wearing rescue gear, his clothes as torn as hers. He was there with her."

Will looked at the images on the second padd that Deanna handed to him. He looked up at the counselor. "You ever look that proud of me?"

Deanna smiled. "Once or twice, I think. Pretty powerful stuff, isn't it? If you had that kind of support behind you …"

"You might even wind up the First Officer of a _Galaxy_-class starship," Will suggested.

"Will, I believe Ron gave her the confidence to be herself. To do the things she loved, on her own terms. He's been by her side almost her entire life."

"So how does all of this relate to Ensign Possible's performance?" Riker asked.

"Will, Ensign Possible is one of those classic examples of a smart, talented, attractive person with a deep-seated insecurity. Two things can happen to people like that. They find themselves with people who help them overcome those insecurities. Or they find themselves with people who, intentionally or not, feed them. In the former case, the person in question enjoys a remarkable sense of freedom and can do truly incredible things. In the latter, the person in question can dig an ever deeper hole as she seeks approval and acceptance from others. Her confidence will slowly ebb, her potential to lead fade. She will still be smart and capable, but she won't charge ahead.

"Ensign Possible's assignment to _Enterprise_ is the first time in her life that she and Ron Stoppable have been separated. I believe he is the person with whom she can be insecure. And as a result, actually be herself: strong, confident, at ease."

Troi took a deep breath. She was about to venture into territory she preferred to leave unvisited: the love lives of the crew.

"Will, are you aware that Ensign Possible has been romantically involved with Lieutenant Thomas Carter?"

"Carter? Yeah. Smart, good-looking guy on the command track."

"He may be smart and good looking, with lots of potential, too. But he's also smug and overly sure of himself. He is the kind of man who sees a woman like Ensign Possible as an ornament. He may not realize it, but that's the bottom line. Her role is to boost his ego and prospects. I will bet this ship that while he may have been giving her sound career advice, none of it has been designed to help her trade in her gold uniform for a red one."

Deanna watched as Will rubbed his chin. She then said. "Lieutenant Carter feeds and exacerbates Ensign Possible's insecurities. Ron Stoppable, on the other hand, recognizes them, but deals with them in a way that lets her feel safe. For most of her life, he has been the port in the storm for her."

"Except for the last year she's been without that haven," Will offered.

"Yes," Deanna offered simply.

"Another metaphor you could use, Deanna, is a crutch. And now she has to walk on her own. Kim has to grow up. She's not a kid anymore. She's a Starfleet officer."

Deanna decided to play her trump card.

"Will, he is her _imzadi_. And their bond makes the one we have shared pale in comparison."

Riker stared at Deanna. He understood the implications of what she was saying.

"I sensed it the moment we walked out of Captain Picard's ready room and into the discussion about the bathroom …"

Will, caught up in what Deanna was saying, didn't even grin.

"… Even though I sensed embarrassment and frustration on her part, I could feel a resurgent confidence on Ensign Possible's part, like she was struggling to regain her lost footing, even without knowing it. Having Ron with her seemed to feed something inside her. And I could detect similarly strong feelings on his part."

"So you think he can help her regain that spark?"

"Yes."

"He's here for less than two weeks. What happens when he leaves?"

"I honestly don't know. But I think you owe it to her – and to Starfleet – to explore this." She paused. "Will, I believe that under the right circumstances, Kim Possible could be as successful a captain as Jean-Luc Picard. Hold off on her review and see how she reacts to situations over the coming days and weeks."

"Okay …"

"Picard to Riker."

"Riker here."

"Number One, I need you to assemble an Away Team …" The Captain then explained the situation to his First Officer.

"Consider it done, sir. Riker out."

Will looked at Deanna. "Well, looks like we have a chance to put your theory to the test, Deanna. Let me talk to Worf about assigning Possible to this mission."

"Thanks, Will."

IV.

_I can do this_, Kim thought as she put on her uniform. _I can tell Ron what I've been feeling. I can take charge of this sitch. That's what I do, I'm Kim Possible._ She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed, recognizing that she'd been taking charge less and less in recent months; it was as if some essential part of her had been draining away into the empty reaches of outer space. While she was with Tom … and away from Ron.

Once again, she looked at her graduation hologram. Ron. He'd always been there for her. Always told her she could do anything, be anything, ever since they were four years old. When she wanted to join the Martian Red Cross Mountain Rescue Squad, and was told she'd need a partner, he went with her, even though he was scared silly. When she decided to compete in the Academy's Titan Games, he showed up with T-shirts bearing the legend Team Possible, and told her he was ready to start training. He'd spent his break mucking about in EVA suits with her; she smiled as she remembered that. Ron was definitely not graceful in a Zero-G environment. He really had always been there for her. They'd had their disagreements over the years, but he'd _always_ come back. And she realized she'd always just assumed he'd be there, even when she was yearning for other guys.

But then she'd been assigned to _Enterprise_. Though they'd been in regular contact the entire time, things weren't the same. They were now less a part of one another's lives. She saw that Ron had changed in the intervening months. The confidence that had finally begun to emerge when they were in San Francisco was now in full bloom, though there were still flashes of the old Ron, as she saw in his initial encounters with Worf and Picard – and his jarring worries about their friendship. She saw the ease with which he talked with O'Brien, Data and Guinan, how he held his own when disagreeing with Tom. She remembered when Ron would have shied away from that kind of discussion; not anymore. _How else has he changed? _she wondered.

Kim ran her finger along the frame of the hologram, thinking about the previous evening's conversation with Guinan. When Kim returned to her quarters after talking with the enigmatic bartender, she realized the emotions she'd been feeling since Ron's arrival weren't so much new, but unacknowledged, and once she acknowledged them, she began to recognize their intensity. In retrospect, Kim saw that all the signs had long been there: her determination to win the prize just to see Ron; her mounting excitement at the prospect of his visit; the increasing amount of time she spent looking at old photos and rereading letters; her impatient anticipation of his communications; her unalloyed pride in his success as a chef; the inexplicable sense of annoyance when he mentioned he'd been on a date or met some woman; and, of course, the flood of unfamiliar feelings she had been experiencing from the moment he materialized on the transporter platform.

Kim had always wanted to meet someone with whom she could spend the rest of her life. She had to go into deep space to realize that he might well have been next to her for seventeen of the past eighteen years. Thinking of Ron in such terms was novel, even jarring, yet seemed so … right. She knew she needed to take things one step at a time. But she was determined to take those steps.

She got up and left her quarters and headed to the turbolift to go to Ron's for breakfast. _I can do this. I can do this. I CAN do this. I'm Kim Possible. And I can do anything!_

V.

"Two plates of scrambled eggs with bacon and whole wheat toast with butter and blueberry jam."

As the food materialized, Ron slapped his forehead. "Aw, me busted!" he groaned, remembering that Kim had apparently given up meat because of the Pretty Boy. It bothered him that she'd never mentioned that. He'd planned on making her filet mignon, among other things, during his visit. He shook his head, disappointed more than angry as he looked at the food, then ordered the computer, "Make it go away." He watched as the breakfast vanished.

"Two vanilla yogurts with granola, two bowls of Earth fruit – cantaloupe, honeydew melon, pineapple, blueberries, raspberries, and kiwi." Ron learned a long time ago that failure to be specific with a food order in this kind of situation was tantamount to playing replicator roulette. "And two fresh-squeezed orange juices and coffees. And not in the same glasses."

Ron watched the new selection appear, then removed it from the alcove and brought it to the table. He had set places so he and Kim could both enjoy the view. She might be destined to be his just-a-friend but he still wanted to do things right. Just as he lit two candles in the center of the table, the door chime rang.

"Come in," he called.

The door slid open and Kim entered, wearing a smile. Ron's heart melted and began to race. _That uniform. And, oh man, she's wearing her hair up. I could kiss her neck … Yo, Rondo. Stop. Now. You can take the cold shower after she leaves. Geez, what a way to think of your best friend._

Kim looked at Ron and found it hard to breathe. This was the same guy she'd known for the last eighteen years. Tickle fights. Trick or treating. Adventures in the mountains with the rescue squad. New Middleton Mad Dogs cheer squad. San Francisco. Listening to one another's dating woes. And now she really was seeing him in a wholly different light. All of a sudden, his eyes weren't brown; they were a deep, rich cocoa. _I could lose myself in those eyes. I can do this. I can tell him, can't I?_

"This is lovely, Ron. You sure know how to serve breakfast in style," Kim finally said.

"Hey, uh, nothing is too good for my best friend," he offered, before pulling out her chair. "Anyway, I know you've got a busy day and all. Somebody's gotta keep this tub afloat!"

"Watch it!" Kim said playfully. "My father designed this tub."

"Yeah, and your brothers probably stole half the engine parts before it was launched."

Kim laughed, comfortable in Ron's company. _I CAN do this!_ she thought. "This looks great, Ron."

"Thanks, I spoke to the machine myself."

Kim smiled. She had missed Ron's sense of humor.

"So, uh, did you, uh, enjoy the holodeck?" Kim asked, suddenly a little nervous, wishing she hadn't asked that question.

"Oh yeah, it was, uh, badical," Ron answered, beginning to feel uneasy.

"What did you see?" Kim asked, taking a spoonful of yogurt.

"Some temple in Kyoto. It was really nice. You'd like it. Peaceful. Relaxing." Ron really wanted to shift the discussion away from anything that involved Yori.

"So, uh, what do you think of Yori?" Kim wondered, trying to sound nonchalant.

"She's, uh, nice. Friendly. She, uh, likes VR games. And she cooks. She even likes baseball."

"Oh, that's right," Kim said, feigning enthusiasm. "I think she once said that she and Commander Riker were the only ones on board who actually know how the game is played. So you had lots to talk about."

"Oh yeah, talk, talk, talk, late into the night."

"Good," Kim said, trying to be cheerful. _Nice work, Possible. You set them up. What were you thinking? _she thought_. And why is he skittish? I wonder if they … No. Don't even go there. You so do not want that image in your head …_

"So, you and Tom enjoy the rest of the evening?"

"Oh, yeah, it was great."

"Good," Ron replied with a smile, noticing that Kim seemed distracted. _She's probably thinking of being with Pretty Boy and … You don't want to imagine that. That is sick and wrong. Wrong-sick! Aw man, there goes the appetite._

They sat in awkward silence for what seemed an eternity. Kim reached up and played with a loose strand of hair before her eyes settled on the padd she'd brought along. "Here, I put together a schedule of things for you to do today." She handed the device to Ron.

He looked at it and nodded at the many interesting activities she'd planned for him. She'd even arranged for him to have dinner with Miles O'Brien that evening – while she would be off celebrating with Pretty Boy; he tried to keep the scowl off his face. It never occurred to Ron that Kim had arranged the dinner with O'Brien at the last minute, solely to preclude Ron from spending the evening with Yori.

"I hope you enjoy visiting the galley," Kim said. "Maybe you could give the ship's cook some pointers."

"Yeah. Maybe," Ron said.

Both Kim and Ron were uncomfortable, recognizing that something was amiss. They both resolved to say something.

"Look, Ron …"

"KP …"

"Worf to Possible."

Kim frowned as she pressed her comm badge.

"Possible here."

"Ensign, please report to the Observation Lounge in five minutes for a briefing. You will be leading the security detail on Commander Riker's Away Team."

Kim's eyes opened wide. Ron's curiosity was piqued, too.

"Yes, sir. I'm on my way." Kim sighed. "I have to go."

"Yeah."

Kim felt terrible. She'd worked up the courage to say something, but now she had to leave. She was tempted to just blurt things out, but she knew they'd need to talk; she didn't know how Ron would react to what she had to say. The matter would have to wait until she got back. And she had that dinner with Tom that evening. Tom. She didn't even know what she was going to do about him. _This is so ferociously frustrating! _a voice screamed in her head.

Ron saw the expression on Kim's face, assuming she looked sad because she felt she was being a bad host. "Hey, Kim, smile. This is a big deal, going away on a team," he said with genuine enthusiasm. "And you're going to be the boss lady! That's badical."

Kim chuckled, her spirits boosted by Ron's attitude. "Away Team, Ron. And I'm not the 'boss lady.' Commander Riker's still in command."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. At least you now know I read your letters. Betcha thought I skipped over all of the confusing Starfleet stuff. Anyway, I still think it's cool. Worf wants you to be the leader."

She looked affectionately at her best friend, grateful for his excitement and confidence. "I never doubted that you read my letters, Ron," she said, still touched by the knowledge that he evidently had been reading everything she wrote.

"Well, get going. Go kick some Romulan or Cardassian or whoever-the-bad-guys-are butts for me. You gotta go save the galaxy. And remember, you need some help, give me a shout. I've got your back."

She smiled, got up and walked to the door. "Thanks. See you later?"

Ron grinned, and though he could feel a pit opening in his stomach, he felt he needed to be gracious and do the right thing for Kim. "Yeah. But only if you have time. You don't want to forget that big date tonight. We can always catch up tomorrow. Gotta hear how my best friend did riding shotgun."

Kim didn't want to leave. She stood by the door for what seemed a very long moment, looking at her best friend of nearly two decades. For the first time since she'd put on a Starfleet uniform, she felt resentment towards its claim on her; she wanted to be with Ron. Suddenly, like the tide rolling back in, the confusing awkwardness reappeared.

"Well, I'd better go …" Kim said.

"Yeah, see ya …"

Ron stood there and watched as the door slid shut behind her.

VI.

Kim hurried down the corridor to the turbolift. Though she was disappointed to be torn away from Ron, there was no denying that her excitement was mounting. _Lead security officer on an away mission!_ _This is so incredibly cool! And just before my promotion review!_

She collected her thoughts and instinctively slapped her comm badge.

"Possible to Carter." Despite her emerging feelings for Ron, Tom Carter had been an important part of her life these past three months; Kim wanted to tell him about her assignment, sure that he'd want to know.

"Kim?"

"Tom! I've just been assigned to be the lead security officer on an away mission being led by Commander Riker!"

"You're kidding?" he asked.

"No! I'm so excited! I'm going to the briefing now."

"Well, I'll, uh, see you tonight. Good luck. And be careful."

"I will. See you later."

Kim entered the turbolift, bothered by Tom's reaction to her news. _"You're kidding?" What did he mean by that? _she asked herself_. He actually sounded surprised that Commander Riker gave me this assignment._ While she was pondering that thought, it occurred to her that Tom had sounded patronizing, rather than concerned, when he told her to be careful. His response to her being asked to join the Away Team was so different from that of Ron, who was both impressed and excited that she had been chosen and confident that she would go do a great job.

Kim felt like she'd been hit by a photon torpedo.

_Guinan's right_, Kim thought. _Maybe it really is easy, if only I want it to be._

VII.

Kim entered the Observation Lounge. Commander Riker was seated at the head of the long, curving conference table. Ranged along the sides of the table were a number of officers from the communications and engineering departments.

Riker looked at Kim and offered an inviting smile. "Thanks for joining us on such short notice, Ensign."

Kim nodded and, as she sat down, watched as two other officers from security joined the meeting.

"Here's the situation," the First Officer explained. "The relay went off-line at 0235 local time. We don't know why. But we're going to find out. The relay is large, so we're going to divide our forces and search for any signs that might explain the failure." Riker looked at Kim and her fellow security officers. "You may wonder why I asked you to join us …"

Kim, excited, couldn't help but jump in. "There's the possibility of malicious activity."

Riker looked at Kim, mildly surprised that she'd interrupt him, but still pleased. This sounded more like the Kim Possible who'd boarded _Enterprise_ almost a year ago. _Maybe Deanna was onto something,_ he thought. "You got it, Ensign. Make sure that each party is fully armed, just in case."

VIII.

"Sir, come here," Kim called to the lieutenant from communications. "Look!"

"Well, well. It appears that you've found something," he acknowledged with a grin. "Garcia to Riker."

"Riker here."

"Commander, Ensign Possible has found something that you should look at."

"On my way."

Will Riker arrived a few minutes later and looked at the damaged wall panel.

"Lieutenant?"

"The microlinear servoprocessors have been removed."

"Any idea why someone would want them?"

"None, sir. They're pretty much pointless on their own; I'm surprised that the rest of the unit was left, to be honest."

"What do you think, Ensign?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Kim said. "It's obvious someone came looking for them. Whoever it was was careful when they removed them," she noted, pointing to the now-impaired device. But she couldn't help but also notice the ragged cut in the panel. She held her tricorder to the bulkhead and looked at the readings. _Plasma?_

She turned back to the communications officer. "Sir, is there anything distinctive about these processors? Power capacity? Resiliency? Anything in particular that might make them attractive on the black market?"

He furrowed his brow in thought. "The uses are limited. But they are difficult to fabricate. And these were state of the art."

"Black market, Ensign?" Riker asked.

"Yes, sir. The cut burns. Not from a phaser or any other Federation-issued tool, nor from the known weapons or utility stocks of known Federation adversaries. It could be an unknown threat, but given how deep we are into our own space, I'd suspect black marketers."

"Any recommendations?"

Kim nodded. "Yes, sir. We know we're not dealing with equipment failure. We need to do a thorough top-to-bottom search of the relay to determine whether anything else has been removed; that means we're going to have to look behind every panel, under every console. Somebody must plan to use these processors in conjunction with something else. And we need to figure out what that is. That will be easier to do if anything else is missing; it will give us another piece of the puzzle."

"Good thinking, Ensign."

Riker pressed his comm badge.

"Riker to Picard."

"Yes, Number One. Any news?"

"Yes, sir. Ensign Possible found something …" Riker then explained the situation. "It looks like we're going to be here for a while …"

Kim sighed inwardly. She knew they had a mystery on their hands. And she was now the lead investigator. Her personal life would have to wait.

_TBC …_


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to SariahSariah, Commander Argus, campy, JPMod, Jokerisdaking, The Odd Little Turtle, Zaratan, surfost, daywalkr82, Ultimate Naco Topping, Taechunsa, Ezbok58a, JMAN2.0, JeanieBeanie33, momike, Theta-Alpha-One, jasminevr, nmorgendorffer, mattb3671, vanillalillies, conan98002, Ace Ian Combat, The Halfa Wannabe, Markv1.0, calamite, Yuri Sisteble, Android k/18, TexasDad, Cabriel, Michael Cross, and Emerald Dark Knight for reviewing.

Thanks again to campy for his indispensable beta and proofing work; the Romulan Ale is in the mail.

Remember: write a review, get a personal response beamed directly to your email box!

In the mood for some seasonal fun? You might want to check out my two Christmas stories, _It's a Ronderful Life_ and _Kim Possible: So the Christmas Present Drama_.

_KP_ belongs to Disney, _TNG_ to Paramount.

* * *

I. 

As Ron sat in Ten Forward enjoying a drink with Chief O'Brien, he thought of how grateful he was that Kim had arranged for him to see and do different things on the ship: the activity kept him from wallowing in self-pity – and more important, from worrying about her. At home, and in San Francisco, Ron had always been able to keep an eye on Kim, be there to help, just in case something happened. She was usually more than capable of not only keeping herself safe, but him, too. But there were those odd times, especially on Olympus Mons, when his presence made all the difference.

Then Kim graduated and he had to adjust to the fact that she was on her own and would have to take care of herself or depend on others. For the past year Ron knew Kim could find herself in dangerous situations; but the idea had seemed abstract since she was so far away, and so he was able to accept his impotence. Now that he was out in deep space with her, the possibility of her coming in harm's way had taken on a palpable feel. He just wished the Away Team would return already; he knew he wouldn't get to see Kim tonight, but the knowledge that she was back on board would be a great relief to him.

Ron was staring into his synthale; since Guinan wasn't on duty, he and O'Brien had to settle for ersatz alcohol.

"She'll be okay," O'Brien said.

"Huh?" Ron asked, lost in his thoughts.

"I said she'll be okay. Ensign Possible. She's good, Ron, very good. And with Commander Riker in charge, the situation is surely under control."

"Yeah, I'm sure you're right. It's just that …"

"How long have you felt this way about her?"

"Wha …?"

O'Brien grinned at Ron. "Don't be coy with me. You've got it bad for her. I'm not buying this 'best friend' malarkey. You want her. And based on the way she greeted you yesterday, I think she wants you …"

"I don't think so, Chief. KP and me, we've always hugged. Besides, she's already found Captain Perfect."

"What, Tom Carter?"

"Yeah," Ron grumbled, a frown on his face. "I'm not convinced that Mr. Data is the only android on this ship. Carter's too perfect. Brains, looks, the whole package. What KP always called a 'hottie.' She just doesn't see me that way," Ron sighed. "Nah, I'm just a friend. Always have been, always will be."

Miles O'Brien looked sympathetically at Ron. He couldn't say why, but he felt Ron was a much better fit for Kim. Maybe it was the way she seemed to come alive when she was waiting for Ron to materialize. O'Brien had come to think of Kim as quiet and diligent; but as she waited for Ron to arrive, the Chief couldn't help but be impressed by her ebullience. "You know, Ron, I wouldn't make any assumptions …"

"LaForge to O'Brien."

"O'Brien here."

"Sorry to bother you, Chief, but we have a cascading power fluctuation in the secondary transporter conduits; I thought you'd want to look at it."

"Definitely, sir. I'm on my way." O'Brien looked at Ron. "Sorry to run out on you …"

"It's okay, Chief. You've got a job to do." Then, with concern etched onto his face, Ron asked, "Is Kim going to be able to get back safely?" He hadn't understood most of what he'd just heard, but he did recognize the word 'transporter.'"

O'Brien smiled. "You can count on it. And Ron? It's Miles," the Irishman said, patting the younger man on the shoulder as he got up and left.

Ron looked out the window at the passing stars, then at his drink. Suddenly, he was feeling awfully lonely. He downed the synthale in one gulp, got up, and headed for the door. He wished Guinan was tending bar; he would have liked talking with her just now. And a real drink would have been welcome, too.

II.

Kim felt like she was exploring the galaxy's largest Erector set. After the discovery inside the array, she decided that an external search would be in order. _Enterprise_ had conducted a scan that helped the Away Team focus its work on the outside of the structure. Kim and three others had donned EVA suits; once outside, they split into two parties and followed a search pattern that she devised.

She had been crawling around the exterior of the array for more than two hours. And as much as she enjoyed what she was doing, it was time to take a rest break.

"Lieutenant, let's take five. Give our eyes a chance to rest so we don't miss anything," she said into the microphone in her helmet.

"Sounds like a good idea, Ensign," the other officer replied before waving at her.

Kim smiled, pleased that her superior officer had no qualms about following her lead. He may have outranked her, but she was the lead security officer and this was now a security matter.

Kim turned to look around her. Looming beyond the array was the huge yet still graceful form of _Enterprise_. She had seen it from within a shuttle craft and from Spacedock. But out here in space, _Enterprise_ just seemed so much more awesome. She took particular pride in the fact that her father had designed the great vessel.

The view of both ship and stars was incredible; she decided to take a moment to enjoy the spectacular sight. Kim soon found herself recalling the time she and Ron had donned EVA suits to practice for the Titan games. She wondered what he thought of the stars, then smiled as she realized she already knew: he'd set their breakfast table so they could look out the windows. That gladdened her; she never tired of looking at the stars. But then she scowled, realizing there was no way she'd get to talk with him about the view or anything else that night. She was far from done with her work here. She'd be lucky if she got to talk with Tom.

She returned to her search.

A few minutes later, she made her second discovery of the day. Something else had been removed.

"Lieutenant Chang, please come over here."

The communications engineer used his jet pack to make his way over to Kim. While she was happy to have made the find, part of her wished it had been Chang who'd found something. Kim wished she were using the jet pack; flying about outer space with just a pack and an EVA suit was ferociously cool.

The other officer set down beside her.

"Something's definitely missing," he said. "I just wish I knew what it was. Whatever it was, it was small."

Kim pondered the situation for a moment. "Let's image this section and send it back to _Enterprise _for analysis. They should be able to match it up against the exterior schematics of the array."

"Good idea, Ensign."

Kim took a 3D picture of the damaged area and transmitted it back to the ship. Then she contacted the First Officer to tell him about their discovery.

"Thanks for the update, Ensign. It sounds like our visitors have been busy. Good call on the exterior check, Possible."

"Thanks, sir," Kim replied, before ending the conversation. She then turned to Chang. "Well, time to get back to work."

III.

Ron was shuffling down the corridor when he and Worf bumped into each other.

The Klingon growled. He'd had a long day and was in a foul temper, with little patience for this buffoon.

Ron looked up and saw the menacing face of _Enterprise_'s chief security officer. He, too, was in a bad mood. And he was suddenly annoyed that Worf was here where it was safe while Kim was out on the array. "Why don't you watch where you're going?" he snapped.

Worf was surprised. People never spoke to him that way. And the last person he expected to break from the familiar pattern of deference to which he had become accustomed was Ensign Possible's ridiculous friend. He glowered at Ron.

"And don't look at me that way, dude," Ron added testily. "I'm a Federation citizen. I pay your salary. You work for me. Show me some respect."

Worf was taken aback. _Counselor Troi was right, _the Klingon thought. _ Perhaps I have misjudged him. He has … spirit._ He looked at Ron, then said, "Please accept my … apology." He paused, then added, "I would be honored if you would join me for a drink."

Now it was Ron's turn to be surprised. "Uh, thanks, but I just came from Ten Forward."

"I was not thinking of Ten Forward. We will go to my quarters. There we will have a real drink. One fit for warriors."

Ron couldn't help but think that the night had just become very weird. "Warriors, huh?" he asked.

Worf then smiled, a wild gleam in his eye. "Yes, warriors! Heirs to the glorious Kahless and all that is noble and true! Join me, Ron Stoppable, for a draught of blood wine."

"Ooo-kaaaay," Ron replied to Worf's invitation, unsure as to whether he had just agreed to join the Klingon for a nightcap or go into battle.

IV.

It had taken more than fifteen hours, but the Away Team had explored every part of the array, both inside and out. They failed to find any other damage or any other missing components other than the microlinear servoprocessor and a transponder.

The Starfleet personnel had reassembled at the beam-out point. The work they had done was important, if none too glamorous. Earlier in the day they had lunch, a set of ready-to-eat meals beamed over from the ship. Kim remembered thinking of Ron's cooking while she ate her prepackaged astronaut food. Commander Riker had noticed the wistful look on her face, and began asking questions. Kim was surprised by and pleased with Riker's enthusiastic reaction as she told him about Ron's profession and the culinary treats he had made for her over the years; the First Officer, she learned, liked to cook.

Kim looked at Will Riker, at the three solid pips, at his red uniform. She wondered if she would ever attain such rank. Kim was more confident of doing so today than she'd been just a few days ago. Being assigned to this mission had certainly helped. She'd have to thank Lieutenant Worf.

Yet despite her satisfaction, Kim was frustrated. She had to return to _Enterprise_ with just two small clues with which to work. And then there was the matter of the dinner with Tom. She really didn't know how she was going to handle that. Intellectually, she was sure she should end things with him. But what was going on in her head was not the same as her heart or gut. There she felt turmoil. Independent of any emerging feelings for her best friend were her new concerns about her current boyfriend. She'd been with Tom for three months and still thought she was physically attracted to him. And she worried that once in his presence, her resolve would falter, and she'd stay with him for all the wrong reasons. For the first time ever, Kim was willing to honestly acknowledge her weakness for a handsome face.

As she thought all this, Kim Possible's thoughts were interrupted by the familiar whine of the dematerialization process. In just a few seconds, she was back aboard _Enterprise_.

V.

They were on their fourth bottle of blood wine. Worf was truly impressed. Most humans would have collapsed long ago; Ron, however, seemed to be holding his own, if barely. Further enhancing Worf's opinion of Ron was the latter's willingness to eat the heart of targ – and the fact that he'd raised no objections to listening to Worf's favorite operas, _Lo, The Sword Shall Till the Soil of Battle Upon Which the Enemy was Slain _and _Die Walküre_ (both in the original Klingon, of course); Ron had even encouraged his host's singing, shouting "Hit the high notes! Hit the high notes!"

Worf, with an increasingly unsteady hand, poured more of the liquid into Ron's flagon.

"Sho, Whorf," Ron slurred. "Tell me. Why ish it that you shtayed behind and let Kim. A girl. Go in your plashe on the misshion? Why put her in danger?" Even intoxicated, Ron's protective instincts towards Kim asserted themselves. "Big ol' Klingon like you washn't afraid of going outshide, huh?"

For a moment, Worf's eyes narrowed, as he first took Ron's question as a grave insult. But then, in that moment of awareness that often precedes complete drunkenness, he understood what was motivating Ron.

"Ensign Possible is a warrior," he bellowed. "I chose to honor her by letting her go on the mission. I believed that it would help her win promotion."

Ron looked at Worf, then grinned. "Okay, thash cool. I won't have ta kick your butt. Ya know, you are one bon-diggity shenior offisher dude."

"Have some gagh," Worf replied, offering the Klingon delicacy to Ron, who, much to Worf's delight and surprise, ate some. "We must talk of serious matters now," the Klingon said, as he barely avoided dropping the plate of food as he set it down on the table.

Somehow, Worf's purposefulness of tone pierced Ron's alcohol-induced haze; he listened attentively.

"You must fight for her heart," Worf declared, as if he was announcing a combat objective.

"What?"

"You desire her. And you are a worthy mate for her. You will not let her remain with that .. that …"

"Pretty boy?" Ron suggested.

"Yes," Worf agreed. "Pretty boy," he added condescendingly. "You _will_ win her affections." The latter was offered as a command.

"Yo, Klingon dude, you forget. He's got hair and teeth and brainsh …" Ron replied, a note of despair entering his voice.

"Perhaps. But you, Ron Stoppable, have something far more potent …"

Ron, curious, looked at Worf, who was grinning like a man going into battle with a truly fearsome and invincible weapon.

"… You have the heart of a Klingon!"

VI.

"Ensign, it's been a long day. Let's debrief tomorrow at 0730 hours."

"Yes, sir."

Kim and Riker had exited the transporter room and were heading in opposite directions when the First Officer called back to the younger officer.

"Kim, you did good work out there today," he said with a grin and a twinkle in his eye. Kim beamed at the compliment.

"Thank you, sir! See you tomorrow."

Kim strode down the corridor. She was tired, but exhilarated. They might be looking at a huge mystery with very few leads, but Commander Riker had just praised her efforts. She pressed her comm badge. Even if she couldn't see Ron, she could at least let him know she was back on board and say good night. But there was no response from his quarters. She thought about that for a moment. Ron could still be out with O'Brien. Or sleeping; Ron had always been a very sound sleeper. And the hour was late. And he might be suffering from space lag. She'd just have to tell him tomorrow.

She then contacted her boyfriend.

"Sorry, Tom, I just got back …" she said, apologetically.

"It's okay, Kim. If you're still up for it, I've got everything ready."

Kim sighed inwardly. What she most wanted now was to go to sleep. But she owed it to Tom to see him. She knew they had to talk.

"Why don't you give me fifteen to freshen up?"

"Great. See you soon, Kim."

A quarter of an hour later, Kim stood before the entrance to Holodeck Three. She took a deep breath before entering.

She found herself standing on a street in San Francisco, in Pacific Heights, outside the entrance to Sans Souci. _If I was looking for a sign … _Kim thought. Ron had written recently to tell her that he'd interviewed for a job there as associate executive chef. It was a long shot, he had said, but it was the best restaurant in the city and rarely had openings. At the very least, he'd explained, he'd had some face time with the chef. Kim smiled, thinking it was indeed a small, weird galaxy.

She walked in and found Tom waiting for her at a corner table by the window. That was the nice thing about the holodeck: While the food might not be as good as the real thing, you didn't need to wait two years for a reservation and you always got a good table.

Tom rose and gave Kim a kiss on the cheek.

Kim couldn't help but smile. Tom had really pulled out all the stops. As always, he looked dashing. Yet her heart no longer fluttered at the sight of him. She wondered. She had thought she and Tom had had something significant these past three months; but had she really only been crushing on him the whole time? She didn't like thinking that at 22 she could still be so … shallow?

"So, how was the mission?" he asked.

"Fifteen and a half hours for two clues," Kim replied.

"Sorry about that."

"No big. We'll figure this out. Besides, Commander Riker thought I did a good job. And I got to take a space walk." Kim, with great enthusiasm, began to go on about her extra-vehicular activities.

Tom shook his head, but grinned. "I don't think I'll ever understand you and your fascination with extreme sports, Kim."

_But Ron does … And that's one of the reasons I want to be with him._ Kim was stunned as she felt like the last 36 hours had been nothing but a series of unending revelations about herself and Ron.

"What is it Kim?" Tom asked.

Kim sighed. She looked at her companion. "You're not going to like this, Tom."

He laid down his utensils.

"Tom, I think we should just be friends."

"Friends?"

"Yes."

"But why? We've got something great, something special, going."

"Tom, it was special. But it's, it's just not right."

"It's him. It's Ron, isn't it? I should have known," Tom said bitterly.

"Tom, look …" Kim protested. "I'm not going to lie to you. I've realized I do have feelings, pretty intense ones, too, for Ron. But this is about us. It's not working."

"What do you mean?"

"Tom, last night when we were having drinks with Ron …"

Tom scowled.

"… _and _Yori and we began talking about meat you said something like 'Kim, we don't eat meat.'"

"So?"

"Tom, you don't speak for both of us. Yet you seem to think you should. And I've gone along with it. That is so not me. Or at least it isn't the me I used to be."

"So you going to call Ron and scarf down some fresh kill with him?" Tom gibed.

"Childish much? And so what if I did? That's my business, not yours."

"Kim, look, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. But we can work this out. You don't really just want to throw this away, do you?"

"Tom, I think it's best this way. Please try to understand."

"Kim, you're just being rash. You haven't seen him in a year and you're excited he's around. But you know what? He'll leave in a couple of weeks and you'll be lonely and you're going to want us to get back together. And do you even really know him anymore? Does he know you? I know you. He doesn't."

"He's known me for eighteen years, Tom."

"You've changed since you last saw him."

"Yes, and that's the problem. I want to be the risk-taking Kim who said goodbye to Ron a year ago, not the diffident, tentative one he saw last night. I want to be the Kim who actually believes that anything is possible for a Possible. I can't be that person with you, Tom. I'm sorry."

Tom stared at Kim, unsure of what to think or say. Finally, he shook his head and gave his now-ex-girlfriend a rueful smile. "You're making a mistake, Kim. Trust me."

"I'm sorry, Tom," Kim said as she got up and headed for the exit.

"Kim …"

She turned back to her ex-boyfriend. "Yes?"

"See you around. If you change your mind …"

"Good night, Tom," she responded.

Kim then headed out of the holodeck, secure in the knowledge that she'd done the right thing. Now, more than ever, she wanted to be with her best friend who, hopefully, would want to be something more.

VII.

Miles O'Brien had decided to take a look at the EPS conduits to make sure they weren't damaged by the cascade. The conduits were scattered about the ship, which gave him the opportunity for a bit of a walkabout.

O'Brien had come off the turbolift and turned a corner when he had a surprise: Ron Stoppable was sprawled out in the corridor. The Chief knelt over to make sure Ron was okay. Ron's breath told it all – he was roaring drunk.

The Irishman hit his comm badge, "O'Brien to Possible."

Kim had just left her ex-boyfriend on the holodeck. "Possible here."

"You're needed on Deck 5. A, uh, security matter."

"I'm on my way, Chief," Kim responded, wondering why she would be needed in the heart of Senior Officer Country. She was stunned when she found Miles O'Brien standing over Ron's prone body.

"I'm sorry, Ensign, but I wasn't sure which of the guest quarters he was in and, to be honest, I need some help in moving him. He's dead weight," O'Brien noted, then, seeing the expression on her face, he quickly added, "He wasn't like this when we parted."

Kim was confused. Ron had never had a problem with alcohol before. Yet here he was, stone cold drunk.

Ron was momentarily shaken from his stupor. Through blurry vision, he saw that Kim and O'Brien had slung his arms around their shoulders, and were leading him somewhere.

"Yo, KP, you're looking mighty fine!" Ron belched, then added, "You too, Mi, Mi, Chief."

Kim and Miles brought Ron to the turbolift and to his quarters on Deck 6, then led him to the sleeping area where they let him flop down onto the bed; he was once again out cold.

"I'll be going now, sir."

"Thanks, Chief. Could we keep this quiet?"

"Of course," he answered before leaving.

Kim looked down at Ron, filled with disappointment. She had felt liberated after breaking up with Tom and had looked forward to talking with Ron. But here he was, inebriated; beyond inebriated. She didn't want to believe he'd turned into a lush. Yet the proof seemed to be right before her eyes. She was angry with him. But she also realized she was sad. She really had wanted things to work out with Ron. Maybe even to go the distance, as Guinan said. But if Ron had been hiding a drinking problem, Kim wondered what other unwelcome things there were to know about her best friend. Maybe Tom was right. Maybe she really didn't know Ron anymore …

VIII.

The next morning, after her meeting with Riker, Kim went to her bat'leth training session with Lieutenant Worf. She knew this was a privilege; only the most promising officers received instruction from him.

She was still agitated about the previous night. Ron had let her down. She just couldn't believe Ron would be so irresponsible. It was one thing to get tipsy, but she suspected he was lucky he hadn't vomited in the corridor. Images of him being found by Captain Picard began to fill her head; she shuddered.

Kim, wearing a gi, entered the holodeck, where she and Worf would train.

"Good morning, Ensign," the Klingon said, handing her a training bat'leth.

"Good morning, sir," she said, taking the proffered weapon.

They had been sparring for some time when Worf surprised her. "I misjudged your friend." Worf continued testing Kim; he brought his blade down in a sweeping arc.

_So did I_, Kim thought sadly, as she brought her weapon up to deflect Worf's attack.

Worf spun around and, as he came back towards Kim, extended his arm, the blade now coming around like a scythe. "He has the heart of a Klingon."

"Ron?" Kim exclaimed as she dropped to the floor, then kicked out with her feet, forcing Worf back.

"Good. Very good," he commended his student before turning back to the conversation. "Last night, he ate gagh with me. Only the Captain and Commander Riker have been bold enough to do that," he declared, his voice filled with admiration as he resumed the offensive, thrusting the bat'leth directly at Kim. "And heart of targ, too."

Kim was now having trouble parrying Worf's blows as she struggled to assimilate the idea of Ron and the Klingon socializing.

"And he appreciates blood wine …" Worf said approvingly as he swept his blade upwards, trying to hook Kim's weapon.

Kim recalled Ron lying on the floor on Deck 5. _Oh no …_

"… he kept pace with me throughout the night, flagon for flagon," Worf said, a wild glint in his eye, pleased as he recalled the previous evening and pleased as Kim fell back, narrowly avoiding his ploy.

Kim knew her superior officer had just paid Ron a signal compliment. No wonder Ron was passed out on the floor. She wondered how he got as far as he did; Klingons had a far higher tolerance level for their own alcohol than did humans.

Now that she knew how Ron got drunk, she also wanted to know why he was drinking with Worf; unfortunately she could not simply ask her superior officer. Worf was very protective of his private life. Instead, she asked a simple question, hoping that it might lead Worf to volunteer information. "Ron did that?"

"You sound surprised, Ensign," Worf said as he finally relieved Kim of her weapon, then brought her down to the mat.

"It's just that, Ron and heart of a Klingon …" she said, though she had to admit he had done some gutsy things with her over the years, even if he'd been screaming most of the time.

Worf narrowed his eyes and gazed at Kim. He extended his hand to help her to her feet. "Would you ever forget that your enemies can always surprise you?" he asked her; Kim responded by shaking her head no.

"You would do well to remember that of your friends, too," Worf advised.

_TBC …_


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to captainkodak1, kpandron, swiglo3000, Zaratan, mattb3671, shadexxx, RamaFan, campy, JPMod, surfost, Moss Royal, Theta-Alpha-One, jasminevr, Taechunsa, spectre666m Shinriko, daywalkr82, Uru Baen, Louis Mielke, JMAN2.0, Mobius97, TexasDad, Darkcloud1, TAZER ZERO, Markv1.0, Ezbok58a, momike, conan98002, Yuri Stisteble, Dixon-San, vanillalilies, Commander Argus, Cabriel, zipporahvulcan, kemiztri, Emerald Dark Knight, The Odd Little Turtle and strength-91-possiblity-none for reviewing.

Thanks also to everyone who reviewed _Kim Possible: So the Christmas Present Drama_ and _Kim Possible: She Could Do Anything_.

A special thank you, as always, to campy for his indispensable beta and proofing work; the Blood Wine is in the mail.

I feel like the Disney Channel, posting this chapter on a non-scheduled day. However, FF net announced maintenance for tomorrow, so I decided to post this chapter a day earlier rather than a day late. We will return to our normal schedule next week.

Remember: write a review, get a personal response beamed directly to your email box!

In the mood for yet more seasonal fun? You might want to check out my Hanukah story, _Indiana Kim and the Dreidel of Doom_. And, as a special New Year's treat, keep an eye out for _Kim Possible: December 31st_, which will be posted on, you guessed it, New Year's Eve day.

_KP_ belongs to Disney, _TNG_ to Paramount.

* * *

I. 

The door bell chimed. Ron, who was leaning over the toilet, cursed, then groaned.

The bell chimed again.

"Come in," Ron moaned. He felt awful; his head was pounding and his innards were on fire.

"Ron, where are you?" Kim called out as she entered, concern in her voice. She was answered by the unmistakable sound of retching, now knowing where to find him. She saw her best friend on his knees, his back to her; he was still wearing the clothes he'd had on the previous night. "How are you?" she asked.

Ron stayed on his knees, his back turned to Kim. He was too ashamed to look at her. He had vague memories of her and Miles O'Brien leading him into his quarters. He wondered where they'd found him. He was mortified. _I let her down. Big time. First the bathroom thing, now this … She must hate me,_ he thought morosely.

"Ron, please, look at me," she said with disarming gentleness.

He reluctantly turned around and looked at his best friend. She really was attractive in her gi. And though some would have said her hair was a mess, he thought it was wildly beautiful. _Great, I'm gonna be a drunk lovelorn poet, _Ron thought.

She thought he looked dreadful. His hair was spiky, standing up at ridiculous angles; his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot; his face unshaven; his clothes rumpled and soiled. But what caught Kim's attention was the look of utter shame and defeat on Ron's face and in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, KP …"

"Ron, you don't need to apologize," she said warmly.

"Yeah, I do, Kim …"

"No you don't, Ron." She saw he was going to protest, then recalling one of their childhood games said, "To infinity."

Ron gave Kim a weak smile, realizing he'd lost that argument for now. "Okay, fine, you got me there. How about some water? And my toothbrush and toothpaste?"

Kim gave Ron the requested items and watched with bemusement as he brushed his teeth while he sat on the bathroom floor. _He really still is weird_, she thought as he handed the brush and paste back to her. After putting the items on the sink, she sat down next to him.

"So, you and Lieutenant Worf are drinking buddies?" she asked, much to Ron's surprise.

"Long story …" Ron croaked.

"I'm sure it's fascinating, too. Spill."

"I, I don't think you want to know," Ron said softly. He was too embarrassed. And he was now convinced he had no romantic future with Kim; there was no way she'd want to be with an immature, drunk loser like him. He felt lucky that she was still willing to talk to him.

Kim then did something he hadn't seen in nearly a year. She flashed him the Puppy Dog Pout, which Ron believed to be the most fearsome weapon in the Federation.

"Oh, geez, Kim, not that, not the Pout."

She wouldn't relent.

"Okay, fine, _you_ wanted to know." He knew he'd have to say something sooner or later. He paused before he said quietly, "I was jealous ..."

Kim looked at Ron intently.

"… I was jealous because, well, because, oh man, I can't …"

"Why, Ron?" Kim asked softly, intently hoping for one answer. "Why were you jealous?"

"Because I care about you." He gulped. "As more than a friend." He dropped his head back into his hands and groaned. He felt so stupid. And like his head was going to explode.

Kim looked at Ron, too overwhelmed by the revelation that Ron had also been thinking about the two of them to even move. But while she was happy – even thrilled, she realized – that Ron had feelings for her, she still wanted to know why he became so drunk the previous night. "So why did you …"

"Get blotto with Worf?" he asked, still not looking at Kim. "Short version: I was wandering around depressed about you, we bumped into each other, he looked at me funny, I snapped at him, he invited me for a drink, and next thing you know I'm on my way to drinking more blood wine than any other human in history."

Kim smiled, relieved that there was an explanation for Ron's condition. "Worf said you ate gagh and heart of Targ, too."

"Yeah. I learned something important last night. Klingons obviously began conquering other worlds in search of a better meal. The targ wasn't all bad; I might actually be able to do something with it. But the gagh. Uggh."

"Why'd you eat it then?"

"You ever been with a drunk Klingon?"

Kim shook her head.

"Yeah, I didn't think so. Let's just say the line between happy Klingon and psycho Klingon seems to be pretty thin," Ron said, uncomfortable as he recalled the manic gleam in Worf's eyes as they drank. "I decided to stay on the happy side of the line."

Kim laughed at that. Then she moved closer to Ron and put her hand on his knee.

"Ron, look I, uh, I've been thinking about you a lot, too."

"Huh?" Ron replied, confused by the placement of Kim's hand and unable to believe what he'd just heard.

"You heard me, Ron. I've been thinking about you. About … us. About how I feel. How you might feel. We've been friends for so long and now I'm wondering if maybe, well, we could be something more. But it's all so confusing."

"Yeah? I think I under– …"

Kim leaned in and gave Ron a kiss, not caring that he smelled like he'd been marinating in alcohol, that his face was scratchy, and that his mouth tasted awful, even after he'd brushed his teeth. It felt … right. She felt fireworks.

Ron was surprised. The kiss began gently, tentatively, but soon deepened and took on a more passionate cast. Ron had had daydreams about this moment, though they never involved his being hung over and sitting on a bathroom floor. Still, it was wonderful. Yet Ron couldn't escape feeling like he'd let Kim down and so broke off the kiss.

Kim looked disappointed.

"You sure about this, KP? I'm not exactly the pick of the litter."

"Ron," she said sternly, "I'm not looking for a dog."

"What are you looking for, KP?" he asked, an unfamiliar tone of seriousness in his voice. "What about Tom?"

Kim sighed. "Ron, my heart's been racing since the moment you stepped on board and I've been having all of these unfamiliar feelings for you … and I like them. And Tom and I broke up last night."

Ron gawped at Kim.

"And, no, this so isn't a rebound. I broke it off with Tom because of what I've been feeling for you and because I realized something was so not right there." Kim took Ron's hand. "I know this isn't going to be easy, we're so used to things being just friends. And then there's the whole matter of you going back to Earth. So, what am I looking for? Not a fling. I want to see if we can, well, you know, see where this goes, Ron. Do you think we can give it a try?"

Ron sat quietly for a moment, considering what they were discussing. Eighteen years of friendship. About to change into something different. If things went wrong … but if things worked out … Ron flashed her one of his goofy grins. "Yeah, I'd like that, KP."

She offered Ron a dazzling smile, then brought her lips to his. She began to kiss him lightly, then more aggressively, when …

"Riker to Possible."

Kim pulled back from Ron and sighed.

"Possible here."

"Ensign, please meet me in the Captain's Ready Room at 1000 hours."

"Yes, sir. Possible out," she said to Riker. Then, to Ron, "Sorry …"

"S'kay. That's a big deal. The Captain wants to see _you_. In his bathroom!"

Kim laughed. They looked happily at each other for a moment, before Ron spoke.

"Uh, KP, what time is it?"

Kim looked at her chrono and swore. "Ohmigosh. Gotta warp!" She leaned over and kissed Ron on the cheek then ran out the door.

Ron slowly got up and wandered into the sitting area. The chrono there said it was 0947.

II.

Picard sat behind his desk, staring sternly at Ensign Possible. She looked like she had just had a rumble with a band of rowdy Klingons. But he was willing to concede that she'd arrived on time, if barely.

"Ensign, I expect my officers to present themselves in a way that reflects positively on this ship at all times. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," she replied. She knew her hair was a mess. But she'd had less than fifteen minutes to run from Ron's quarters to hers, change out of her gi and into a duty uniform, and present herself to the Captain.

The expression on the Captain's face softened. "Please sit down, Ensign."

Kim took a seat in the chair before Picard's desk; Riker leaned against the wall by the fish tank. "Mister Riker has given me a report on yesterday's mission to the array. I was intrigued by your theory."

Kim sat up even straighter.

"He and I have talked and we believe we should follow up on your hypothesis. I would like you to lead the investigation."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. May I ask for Mr. Data's assistance?"

"Why him?" Picard asked.

"We're going to have to look at every conceivable use for the stolen components, then hypothesize new ones. Nobody can do that as fast as he can."

A satisfied smile began to form on Picard's face. "Please do invite Mr. Data to join you in your endeavors, Ensign. You should know that he is actually quite fond of a good mystery." The Captain took a sip of his tea, then looked at his First Officer. "Anything to add, Commander?"

"No, sir."

"Fine, then. Ensign, dismissed."

The Captain and First Officer watched the young red-headed officer leave the ready room.

Will Riker flipped the chair in front of the Captain's desk around and sat down.

"So, what do you think?"

"Impressive, Number One. Assuming Mr. Worf's conjecture is correct that she did not go directly to her quarters after he and Ensign Possible finished their training session this morning she was remarkably focused."

"Indeed, she was, sir. She did excellent work yesterday."

"Yes, she did." Picard then smiled. "Perhaps I should invite her to join me on a visit to the world of Dixon Hill."

"If you do, you could also invite her new boyfriend. I can see it now: Dixon Hill and the Case of the Missing Toilet …"

Will grinned as his Captain pulled a face.

III.

Kim got up and left the ready room, amazed that she'd been given this assignment – and relieved that she'd maintained her composure in front of the Captain and First Officer. She had been nervous. But not as nervous, she realized, as she'd been telling Ron how she felt. And that seemed to work out just fine. She smiled as she approached the Second Officer, who was sitting in the Captain's chair.

"Excuse me, Mr. Data?"

He looked up. "Yes, Ensign?"

Kim explained the situation, before extending an invitation to be part of her investigation.

"I would be pleased to join your team, Ensign. When would you like to begin?"

"I need to ask Chief O'Brien for his help and pull together some materials; let's say 1100 hours."

"Eleven hundred hours it is. And may I suggest we meet in the Observation Lounge? The senior officers have found it to be conducive to conversation and analysis."

"Thank you, sir. See you in the lounge shortly."

IV.

Kim returned to her quarters to neaten up before returning to work; she was surprised to find an envelope beneath her door. She bent over and opened it, withdrawing a piece of paper.

"Galactic Champion Blood Wine Drinker Seeks Company of Bon-Diggity Officer Babe at Dinner. 8 o'clock (that's 2000 hours for you Starfleet types). Chez Stoppable. RSVP or gimme a holler."

Kim laughed. She was happy that Ron was being himself in the wake of their conversation. She realized she'd hate it if he lost his goofiness as they began to explore this new side to their relationship. She was also impressed with how quickly Ron had made it to her quarters after she left, given his condition. It had been less than half an hour since she'd departed.

She pressed her comm badge. "Ensign Possible to Mr. Stoppable."

"Yo, Kim. What up?"

She chuckled. "You don't quite have the protocol down, do you?"

"Hey, who needs protocols when they've got Ronshine?" he asked cheerily. His head and stomach were slowly beginning to feel better after his latest draught of medication and he was still riding the high from kissing Kim; he didn't think she needed to know how woozy he felt when he went to deliver the invitation.

"Well, I'd like some of that Ronshine tonight at 2000 hours."

"Badical."

"Though, uh, my acceptance has to be provisional."

"Oh?" Ron said, sounding a little bit deflated.

"Sorry, but the Captain put me in charge of the investigation and …"

"Booyah! That is sooo incredibly cool, KP!"

"So, you're all right with this?"

"Sure, I get the perversional thing …"

"Ron!" Kim exclaimed.

"Just making sure you're listening, KP. Provisional. Kind of iffy. Perversional. Well, uh, em, well …"

"What we might, uh, explore?"

"Whoa! Your Dad ever heard that …"

"Good thing we're already out by the black hole, huh, Ron?"

"Yeah, I guess it is." He laughed, recalling the black hole speeches James Possible used to give to Kim's teen-aged suitors. "Kimbo, you find a lead, you gotta follow it. Anyway, I'll make sure dinner's ready for you whenever you are, 'kay?"

"Ron, you rock, you know that?"

"You say that to all the guys."

"Nope. Just to … my boyfriend," she said, blushing.

"Double booyah! As long as you're talking about _moi!_" Ron joked.

"Yes, I am, you dope. I've gotta go. Talk with you later."

"KP?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"This is gonna sound hokey, but I'm proud of you. Knock 'em dead."

"Thanks, Ron." Kim said, before ending the conversation. She looked at her dresser for a moment, and the picture of her with Ron, which now sat alone, sighed, then smiled. This was turning out to be a ferociously good day.

V.

Ron had just climbed out of the shower when the door chimed. He wondered who might be visiting him; he'd known Kim long enough to know that once she set her mind to her work she would remained focused. So as appealing as the idea of his best-friend-just-turned-girl-friend appearing at his door looking for another kiss might be, Ron knew someone else wanted to see him. He put on a robe, then called out, "Door's open. C'mon in."

Worf strode into Ron's quarters, carrying a bat'leth. He tossed it to Ron, whose first instinct was to jump back. But something caused him to reach for the handle instead. He was tired, though, and still hadn't recovered from the previous night's fun with his visitor, so he missed. The weapon sailed by him and crashed to the floor.

Worf flashed Ron a Klingon smile. "You did not flinch. Good. Next time you will catch it."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked.

"_I _am going to train _you_ in the art of combat."

Ron's jaw dropped. When he'd regained his composure, he shook his head in disbelief. "Yo, dude, I'm a chef, remember? And I'm gonna be gone in two weeks. Not much time to turn me into a warrior."

Worf ignored Ron's protests and stared at him, his arms folded across his chest. "You have told her how you feel."

"What?" Ron was caught off guard.

"I said, you have told Ensign Possible about your feelings for her."

"Uh, yeah, actually, I did."

"That is good." Worf grinned. "Did you kiss her?"

Ron looked at the Klingon in disbelief.

"Well, did you kiss her?" Worf demanded.

"Whoa! Just because I shared obscene amounts of alcohol with you doesn't mean you get to start nosing around my personal life."

Worf stared at Ron, who began to sense the Klingon would not leave him alone until he gave an answer.

"Yeah, we kissed."

"Who initiated it?"

"She did. And it was badical. Satisfied?"

Worf smiled again. "Yes. But now _you_ will take the initiative by becoming a warrior."

"Uh, dude, what's this got to do with me and Kim?" Ron asked, completely confused by this utterly bizarre conversation.

"Ensign Possible has a warrior's heart; so do you. That is why I believe you two should be mates. But she _is_ a warrior. You are not. You must be able to stand by her side if you are to be truly worthy of her."

"Hey, I'm worthy of her already!" Ron protested.

"If you truly believe that, why did you wait so long to reveal your true feelings? Why was it she who had to kiss you?"

Ron began to feel uneasy. "Weeeellll. She's Kim and she's just so incredible and …"

"Let me train you, Ron. This will give you the confidence to truly be her mate. Her partner. To truly win her heart."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"I am always serious," Worf intoned.

Ron thought about things for a moment. He had the time while he was on board. And the bat'leth seemed really cool. And he was pretty sure Kim would be impressed. "Okay, the Ronman's gonna be a warrior. When do we start?"

"Now. Get dressed in these," Worf said, handing Ron a gi, "and follow me …"

VI.

"Ensign, you are leading the meeting. You should sit at the head of the table," Data suggested.

"But that's the Captain's chair …" Kim said, looking warily at Picard's place.

"He won't mind if you sit there, Ensign," O'Brien encouraged, a smile on his face.

Kim sat down gingerly. It amazed her how the location of a piece of furniture could convey authority. But here she was, the youngest, least experienced person in the room, and the two others were deferring to her.

"Okay, sitch me," she said to the two men.

Data cocked his head. "Sitch me? I do not understand."

"My bad, Commander. I have this habit of slipping into slang …" Kim said, thinking that she only did that when she was feeling truly comfortable and confident. _Could having Ron back in my life – and in a new way -- make that much of a difference in so short a time?_ she wondered. "What's our situation?"

"Here is what we currently know," Data offered. "Two pieces of unrelated equipment were carefully removed from the array. The items are interoperative, but can also function independently. Both have limited uses. We have already determined that both the relay and the transponder were state of the art, indeed, were the first of their type to be deployed."

Kim pursed her lips. "What else?"

"There's the plasma residue you found. Somebody was using unusual tools to remove the components." O'Brien noted.

"Actually, the plasma was only found on the casing of the relay, not on the components immediately adjacent to the unit," Kim said. "That might be important."

"So, whoever took the relay used a blunderbuss to gain quick access to the target," O'Brien noted; he'd seen the images of the rough cut around the relay housing.

"It would seem so. Smash and grab." Kim said, half to herself, sure they were dealing with thieves. "Mr. Data, any possible theories as to why those particular components were taken?"

"I have begun to work on the following scenarios: First, that the two items will be used in tandem; second, that they will be used independently; third, that only one will be used and the other was taken to confuse us."

"And don't forget the fourth possibility, Commander," Kim added. "Both were taken to throw us off the track of something else."

"That is indeed true," Data acknowledged. "The dog that did not bark."

Kim and Miles looked at Data.

"Sherlock Holmes and the case of _Silver Bullet_," Data said, assuming everyone would be familiar with the works of the great Conan Doyle.

Kim smiled. "Mr. Data, Mr. O'Brien please identify, categorize and prioritize the threat level of the possible uses involving the stolen equipment; then put it into a report that I can share with the captain. I'll contact Starfleet Security to see if there are any other crime scenes where our plasma residue may have turned up." Kim rose from the chair. "Let's meet again tomorrow at 1100 hours, unless something else comes up before then."

VII.

"Very good, Admiral. I look forward to welcoming you to _Enterprise_. Until then ..."

Will Riker and Deanna Troi watched the Captain as he watched the screen return to a view of deep space.

Picard sighed. "Number One, any possibilities of a Romulan sortie into Federation space between now and our rendezvous?"

Riker grinned. "Sorry, sir. All's quiet along the Neutral Zone. And in case you're wondering, the Cardassians appear to be behaving themselves, too."

"Perhaps she's just doing random inspections of ships in the sector, Captain," Deanna suggested hopefully.

Picard snorted. "Counselor, Admiral Nechayev does nothing randomly. If she is coming to visit, she has an agenda. And past experience suggests that it will not be one that we like. At least we have some time to prepare for her arrival."

Picard stared wistfully at the viewscreen. _Where were the Borg when you needed them?_

VIII.

"Possible to Stoppable," Kim said into her comm badge. There was no answer. That surprised Kim. She didn't think Ron would be sleeping at this hour. She quickly dismissed the idea that he'd gotten drunk again, now that she knew what had led him onto his bender the night before. "Computer, please locate Ron Stoppable."

"Ron Stoppable is in Holodeck Three."

Kim was glad she'd arranged for Ron to receive his own comm badge.

"Thank you," Kim replied before heading to the turbolift. She had a very short break for lunch and she wanted to say hi to Ron before she returned to her duty shift.

She was surprised by what she found when she entered the holodeck.

"No! Hold it this way!" Worf commanded to Ron; they were standing with their backs to the door.

"Chill, dude, I'm new at this!" Ron protested.

Kim coughed; the two men turned around to see her wearing a bemused smile.

"KP!" Ron exclaimed, suddenly feeling foolish.

"Ensign Possible," Worf said. "If you will excuse me." The Klingon looked at Ron. "I will be back in fifteen minutes."

"Sir," she acknowledged as Worf passed by her. She walked up to Ron, who was still holding his weapon. "So, I know dating is still unfamiliar territory for us, Ron, but don't you think a better way to greet me would be by giving me a kiss rather than pointing a bat'leth at my chest?"

Ron grinned sheepishly, then dropped the weapon. He wrapped his arms around Kim's slim waist and looked into her eyes. "This better?"

"Getting there," Kim said with a twinkle in her eye.

Ron then leaned in and kissed her. He was awkward and nervous, and it was only the third time they had done this, but Kim already loved the feeling of Ron's lips pressed against hers, feeling 18 years of a shared bond behind the action. Ron began to explore a little more aggressively, much to Kim's delight. She liked a confident Ron and tightened the embrace. Finally, they parted lips and touched foreheads.

"How was that?" Ron asked.

"I think I'll keep you."

"Boo-yah."

"Boo-yah, indeed," Kim said before brushing Ron's lips with hers. "So, what are you and Mr. Worf up to?"

Ron dropped down to the floor and sat cross-legged. "Mr. Worf has decided to teach me how to be a warrior."

"Really?"

"Yeah, uh, it's supposed to impress you."

Kim couldn't help herself; she laughed. Ron sulked in response. Kim, seeing the hurt look on Ron's face, knelt beside him.

"Ron, you don't have to impress me. Remember what you looked like when I kissed you this morning?"

"Well, yeah, but …"

"I like you the way you are. I'd much rather have a boyfriend who's mastered the kitchen than one who's mastered Klingon weaponry."

"But Worf says you're a warrior and if I'm going to be with you, I should be one, too."

Kim laughed again. "Ron, listen to yourself. You're taking advice on romance from a Klingon!"

"Well, okay, if you put it that way, it does sound kind of dumb. I told you I wasn't the pick of the litter."

Kim looked at Ron, who seemed deflated. She felt bad; what he was trying to do was actually very sweet. "Ron, you're not only the pick of the litter, you are the litter." She ran her fingers through his hair; she felt a shiver as she realized how much she liked doing that. "Give me an honest answer. Are you enjoying this?"

"What, you running your fingers through my hair? Duh!"

Kim smiled, then messed his hair. "Seriously, Ron."

"The part about being yelled at and my muscles aching – I didn't know that Worf was going to shuffle his schedule so he could spend the entire day doing this when I agreed – I don't like," he replied. "But learning how to use that thing, yeah, actually it's pretty cool."

"Okay, here's the sitch. You should be flattered. If Mr. Worf's taking the time to do this, he really likes you. And, to be honest, I'm touched. Maybe we can work out together, if you'd like … I've got some moves I can show you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And some of them may even have to do with fighting," Kim said, leering, before she reddened. Flirting with Ron was still new.

"Booyah! Sign me up, now, KP!"

Kim stood up, extended her hand, and helped Ron to his feet, then kissed him. "I'm looking forward to dinner tonight, Warrior Chef."

"Same here, KP."

As Kim began to leave the Holodeck, Ron slapped his forehead. "Oh, you must think I'm a jerk. I didn't even ask you about your day!"

Kim smiled. "No big, Ron. We _were_ kind of distracted! Anyway, we've got things moving. In fact, I have to get back to work now. See ya!"

"Back atcha, KP. See ya tonight."

As Kim was exiting the Holodeck, Worf entered. "Ensign," he said.

"Sir," she replied.

With Kim gone, Worf approached Ron. "I hope you … took advantage of your break," the Klingon said.

"Oh, yeah!" Ron answered, a goofy grin on his face.

"Good. Now let us resume your training …"

IX.

It was 1900 hours and Kim was preparing to leave the ship's security office to get ready for her dinner with Ron when the information she had requested from Starfleet Intelligence arrived via sub-space transmission. She opened the files – somebody had sent her a mass of raw data that would take hours to review.

She was tempted to set things aside until the morning, but something about this case was bothering her. The perpetrators had acted brazenly, making no attempt to cover their theft. That could have been a sign that they were amateurs, but considering what they stole and where they went to steal it, Kim suspected otherwise. These were people looking for something in particular and they knew just where to find it. Which meant they had access to information. She wondered whether somebody in Starfleet was selling data. If that was the case, this was way beyond troubling. But even if that wasn't the case, this was a bad sitch. They didn't cover their tracks, and they didn't seem worried about being caught. And if they weren't careless amateurs, then this was not good. It implied that somebody was ready to act. Soon.

Reluctantly, Kim pressed her comm badge. "Possible to Stoppable."

"Stoppable to Possible," Ron said in a mock serious voice, causing Kim to giggle.

"Ron, I hate to do this, but I just got a ton of data for the investigation from Starfleet that I have to review. Can I have a rain check until tomorrow night?"

"Sure, KP. On one condition," Ron said.

"Okay, what?"

"Regardless of when you finish, you have to stop by for some dessert."

Kim smiled. "I'd like that, Ron. You rock."

X.

Kim had been scanning the files for the past two hours; she would have asked Data to do this, but she wanted him to complete the threat analysis.

She was getting up to stretch when the door to Security opened.

"Ron?"

"In the flesh. With some din-din for my Kim-Kim!"

"Mushy much?" she said with a smile that said she liked Ron being mushy.

Ignoring her, he set a hamper down on the desk. "Somethin' tells me you forgot to eat, KP."

Kim squirmed uncomfortably. Ron knew her too well; she'd done just this kind of thing when she was at the Academy. She grinned as she recalled how nice it was to have Ron just show up with food. She shook her head and chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Ron asked as he laid out a place setting for Kim.

"I so cannot believe I had to come out here to realize what a catch you are, Ron."

He kissed her on the top of her head. "Thanks, KP." He then turned to the hamper. "Here's the deal: this is real pasta with fresh pesto sauce, so don't wolf it down. Greens are fresh, too."

Kim looked in wonder at the meal before her.

"Ron, this came out of that box you brought on board, didn't it?"

"Sure did."

Kim looked pensive for a moment, then she looked at Ron. "Is there, uh, any, well, you know, uh, well …. meat in the box?"

"Uh, yeah, but since you're not eat–"

"I want some. Please tell me you've got one of those filet mignons. Or even better, bacon. Oh, bacon and eggs," she said, a dreamy look on her face.

Ron smiled. Tom Carter, like so many other guys Kim had dated, had wrapped her around his finger. He'd always been amazed by how his take-charge best friend could be like putty in the hands of the latest hottie. That was why, when it seemed she'd shunned meat simply to follow Carter's lead, he was not pleased; he would have been perfectly agreeable if she'd done that on her own. But now Ron was happy that she was thinking for herself again.

"KP, I not only have steaks and bacon in that little treasure chest, but, just for you … all-beef hotdogs and marshmallows."

Kim's eyes opened wide. "Ron, you know how to turn a girl on."

"I told you my moves were famous throughout the Alpha Quadrant," he said with a grin. "Alas, I need to go. I know you need to get to work."

"What are you going to do with the rest of your evening?" Kim asked as she put the napkin on her lap.

Ron smiled. "I think I'm gonna hang with Guinan in Ten Forward."

"Have fun. And thanks for dinner," she said. Then, after enjoying her first forkful, she said, "Mmm. Ron, this is soooo good."

"Glad you like. See you for dessert later on."

Kim smiled. "I'm looking forward to it. And Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't be surprised if I have a special treat or two for you!" she said before she leered at him and began giggling.

Ron's jaw dropped. Kim reddened. Then he smiled. She smiled in return. At that moment, the two old friends had very similar thoughts: this was going to take some getting used to. But it sure would be worth it …

_TBC …_


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to jasminevr, The Odd Little Turtle, daywalkr82, swiglo3000, WhiteLadyoftheRing, mattb3671, Zaratan, kpandron, JPMod, Uru Baen, whitem, Louis Mielke, Emerald Dark Night, strength-91-possibility-none, Ezbok58a, Dennis, nmorgendorffer, SariahSariah, surfost, Markv1.0, Yuri Sistelbe, JAM2.0, Darkcloud1, Moss Royal, Commander Argus, Jokerisdaking, momike, conan98002, Cabriel, campy, CajunBear73, The Halfa Wannabe, Vince Stevens, Wanderer3, TexasDad, vanillalillies, Ace Ian Combat, Jezriann2.0, Ultimate Naco Topping, Kail Blade, and MichaelCross for reviewing.

Thanks also to everyone who reviewed _Kim Possible: December 31st._

A special thank you, as always, to campy for his invaluable beta and proofing work; I hope he enjoys the gagh I sent him.

Remember: write a review, get a personal response beamed directly you!

_KP_ belongs to Disney, _TNG_ to Paramount.

* * *

I. 

Given his druthers, Ron Stoppable would have been back in his quarters enjoying a romantic meal with his new girlfriend.

_Girlfriend. Kim Possible is my girlfriend!_ Ron couldn't help but marvel at his good fortune. A lopsided grin covered his face as he recalled kissing her earlier that day.

"So, I assume that you and Kim reached an understanding?" Guinan asked, an impish gleam in her eyes.

"Oh yeah!" Ron replied, unable to contain his enthusiasm. "Hey, wait a second … how'd you know?"

Guinan smiled cryptically. "I knew."

Ron looked at Guinan, then shook his head. If he couldn't be with Kim, spending time with _Enterprise_'s enigmatic bartender was as good a way as any to spend his evening. "You are something else, Guinan."

"Why thank you, Stoppable. I'll take that as a compliment."

Ron could only laugh.

"So," she asked. "How did you wind up a chef?"

"Kim," Ron answered, matter-of-factly.

"Possible taught you how to cook?"

Ron recoiled in horror. "Don't even joke. KP is the most amazing person I know. But her cooking isn't fit for sentient beings." He shuddered before continuing, recalling some of her forays into the kitchen. "Ya know, Kim was really my only friend for most of my life."

Guinan looked inquisitively at Ron.

"Hey, you said it yourself. I'm weird. And I wasn't athletic and I'm not the smartest guy around. Growing up, most of the other kids didn't like me."

Guinan sensed she was in for a good story.

"I met KP in pre-school. Some Andorian creep was bullying her. I didn't like it."

"So you stood up for her. Very chivalrous."

Ron laughed. "I tried to. I gave the little thug a lecture on how we should behave in the playground. He knocked me flat on my back. Then Kim walloped him. We've been best friends ever since."

Guinan laughed. "Okay, so where does cooking come into the picture?"

"Well, I got older. I started messing around in the kitchen and I was good at it. Even taught cooking in High School for a little while. Naturally, being me, I did nothing with it. Then we approached graduation. I'd made a couple of other friends by then, but the only one who really mattered to me was Kim. I couldn't even imagine being apart from her."

"You loved her even back then." This was a statement, not a question.

"Huh. Maybe I did; I guess I just didn't know it," he replied. Ron sat quietly for a few moments before continuing. "Anyway, Kim was accepted into the Academy. I just assumed I'd move to San Francisco to be near her. Then Kim did something I'll never forget …

"_It'll be so cool, KP. You'll be at the Academy, and I'll be hangin' in San Fran!" Ron really didn't have any plans for after graduation. He was just looking forward to a life free of Steve Barkin, detention, and the bullies of D Hall._

"_But what will you _do_, Ron?" Kim asked nervously._

_Ron was surprised by the unfamiliar tremor in his best friend's voice. "What do you mean?"_

"_In San Francisco. What will you do?"_

"_Well, I dunno. But we'll be together. Just like always. Earth, here we come!"_

"_No," she said quietly, but forcefully._

_Ron was stunned. "No? What do you mean 'no'?"_

"_Ron, you're my best friend in the galaxy. But I'm not just going to let you hang out at the Academy." Kim's expression was pained, but determined. "You have to have your own life …"_

"_Oh. I see," Ron said hotly. "I guess now that you're going into Starfleet, I'm not good enough for you …"_

"_Ron!" she said, her eyes beginning to water._

"_Have my own life. I get it, KP. Because there's no room for a loser like me in yours anymore!" Ron turned and stalked to the door._

"_Ron Stoppable! Don't you dare leave!" Kim ordered through now freely flowing tears._

_Ron could hear Kim trying to control her crying. He stopped and turned. Kim never cried. Ever._

"_Ron, you are not a loser. But, but …"_

"_But what, Kim?"_

"_You've coasted through school and you don't have any plans for the future. I just want you to be the best Ron you can be. There's a reason I call you Potential Boy; you have talents, but you don't use them. Maybe that's my fault … You can't spend your life just palling around with me … It's not like they're going to let you hang out on a starship. I'm sorry."_

_Ron looked at his friend of more than thirteen years. She was gambling. He knew that. She was wagering that her friendship meant enough to him that he'd accept her ultimatum. Part of him was tempted to tell her where to get off. But he saw the look in her eyes, and it was one of fear, something he did not associate with Kim Possible. He understood her fear: she knew she was gambling and that she could lose his friendship. Their friendship had never been perfect; none ever was. But he knew then that she valued his friendship as much as he did hers. That made the decision for him._

"_What if I have a plan? Can I come to San Francisco and do best friend stuff with you?"_

"_Yes. And I'd like that. But only if it's a real plan and it's something you truly want to do, Ron. I'm serious about this. I, I know what's best for you …"_

_Ron looked at his friend for what seemed an eternity. "Okay, KP. I'll be back with a plan. You'll see. A badical, bon-diggity one."_

Guinan listened intently to Ron's story.

"Basically, I was good at two things: tagging along with Kim on rescue missions and cooking. Rescue missions weren't going to be an option, so I decided to do something with cooking. I applied to the San Francisco Culinary Institute that week. I was so excited when I got in. It was one of the smartest things I've ever done. I had a blast, even learned to believe in myself. The rest, as they say, is history.

"Kim's done a lot of badical stuff for me in my life, Guinan, but that, until this morning, was the best. If Kim hadn't laid down the law, I wouldn't be where I am today. I'd still be a slacker instead of one badical chef. And I'd be short the most bon-diggity best friend I could ever have." Left unsaid was the corollary that he'd now be without a girlfriend, too.

Guinan looked at Ron. He spoke with seriousness, yet warmth. She'd done a little research on her new friend. He wasn't just a _sous chef_ at any old eatery, but was _sous chef_ at Mistral, a four-star restaurant popular with some key members of the Federation Diplomatic Corps and other VIPs. He'd done very well for himself in a very short time. "So tell me, Ron," the woman asked playfully, "What did she do for you this morning? It must have been pretty special."

"That, Guinan, is none of your business!" he replied, grinning from ear to ear. "Now tell me what you have that's good to drink, that isn't alcoholic and isn't synthahol …"

II.

Kim's dinner was but a happy memory as she slogged through the raw data. She was beginning to fume, wondering whether she'd find anything of use, when she came across the report on the missing Duotronic Memory Capacitor. There it was: plasma residue and the same kind of rough cut at the crime scene at the research station on Paknar IV. And it was stolen just three weeks ago. She made a notation and kept on wading through the information. Then she hit the jackpot. Somebody had tried to fence the stolen capacitor on Ras T'Klar. Starfleet had learned of the sale when a factor seeking to curry favor tipped them off to the unit's presence on the black market.

But what really excited her was that the report included the name and species of the factor the fence had approached.

Kim had a solid lead.

III.

Will Riker and Deanna Troi were enjoying a drink in Ten Forward. They watched with amusement, and some degree of awe, as Guinan actually invited Ensign Possible's friend to join her behind the bar; that was sacred space. Ron certainly looked comfortable back there, taking orders, making drinks, and chatting up the crew.

"I feel bad for him," Will said.

"Why is that?" Deanna asked. "He seems to be having a splendid time."

"Maybe. But he came out here to see Ensign Possible, not become Guinan's assistant. I'm glad I put Possible on that Away Team – she's really risen to the occasion – but instead of entertaining her friend, she's busy working."

Deanna smiled. "I think he's doing a fine job of entertaining himself. And based on the peace and happiness I sense in him, he's comfortable with Kim doing her job. Remember, he's protective, but in all the right ways. He wants her to succeed. And something tells me she'll still find a way to entertain him." The innuendo in her last remark was unmistakable.

"Counselor, I am shocked!" Will said, a huge grin on his face.

"Shocked? I didn't know that it was possible to shock the president of _Enterprise_'s Risa Frequent Visitor's Club!" she retorted before they both broke into laughter.

IV.

"Shego, we have a problem."

"Oh, and what might that be, Dr. D?" she asked, as she sat with her back to him, her feet propped on the computer work station, scanning three data displays while filing her nails, or, more accurately, her clawed gloves, so as to better maintain their sharpness for truly effective slashing.

The blue-skinned scientist scowled at the green-hued woman as she wielded her emery board. "Don't you think you should be working, Shego? I do pay you good latinum, you know."

Shego arched an eyebrow. "Doc, I'm running some entry simulations right now. One on Starbase 462, the second on the Ferengi Central Bank, and the third on Romulan Neutral Zone post six." The raven-haired woman was deciding what to do next: highjack a Starfleet transport, raid Ferenginar for gold-pressed latinum, or lay her hands on a cloaking device. "That ain't busy enough for you, you can talk to the hand." Her employer flinched as she thrust a plasma-enveloped glove at his face.

After Drakken regained his composure, he muttered something about "lippy sidekicks."

"Doc. Focus. Problem. What is it?" she asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh yes. It seems someone in Starfleet is getting nosy."

"Really?" Shego asked with mild interest. "I assume you got this information from Eddie?"

"Of course, Shego."

Shego grimaced. Drakken's cousin Edward Lipsky held a commission in the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. He was incredibly brilliant, highly annoying, and totally corrupt. Starfleet exploited his talents, tolerated his personality, and remained wholly ignorant of his moral vacuity. For the right price, Ed Lipsky happily kept his cousin Drew informed about a variety of matters of interest to the scientist. An Alpha Alpha Theta clearance level coupled with mad fu computer skills let Lipsky run undetected a search routine that alerted him whenever certain inquiries were made of Memory Prime and every other Starfleet database. Among the variables that Ed Lipsky had included in his search parameters were "plasma" and a number of variants of the word "crime."

'Detest' was too mild a world to describe Shego's attitude towards Ed. On the few occasions they'd met, he'd hit on her, totally oblivious to her unqualified rejection of his advances. But she recognized his value. Not many criminals had their very own mole right at the heart of Starfleet.

"So what's the damage?" she asked her boss, as she put her feet down and swiveled her chair so she could face him.

"Your visits to the array, Paknar IV, and Ras T'Klar may have been tied together. And apparently your little Ferengi friend decided to let Starfleet know that a piece of its property was on the market. You might want to deal with him."

Shego cursed, then got up. "I'm on it, Doc."

Drakken was right; they did have a problem.

V.

"Please, don't hurt me." Bunt quivered as Shego held a glowing hand centimeters away from his face; her other hand was grasping the front of his tunic. The Ferengi was terrified; he always had been scared of this woman, so much so that he never once told her how twisted it was that she wore clothes.

"Hurt you?" she snarled. "I oughta break every bone in your body. It's a good thing you're so old and ugly, or I'd introduce you to my Orionisi friends."

The Ferengi shuddered. Shego's friends were slavers; an introduction invariably led to a trip to a Syndicate slave market.

"What kind of Ferengi are you?" she snapped, contempt dripping from her voice. "I can't believe you talked to a Starfleet investigator! Did you tell them about me?"

"N-no," he stammered. "Just that a piece of their property was for sale; they paid me good money for the information."

"Okay, Ear Boy. Here's the deal," Shego snapped. "You so much as say hello to Starfleet, Galactic Justice or anybody else snooping around in the future and you're going to wish I had sold you." To drive home her point, Shego slammed the conniving Ferengi up against the bay of shelves with enough force that things fell to the floor. She let him slide to the floor.

"Please," he sniveled. "Tell me how I can make it up to you."

She smiled, looking like a cat that had her mouse cornered. "For starters, you even suspect someone's an investigator, I want to know …"

VI.

"Spankin'. Now all I have to do is find one Ferengi on a planet with a population of fifty million people made up of six dozen sentient species," Kim muttered to herself. She sat back in her chair and sighed. Then she recalled a conversation she'd had during her last days at the Academy. The old gardener, Boothby, knew she was going to be posted as a security officer on _Enterprise_. He had given her a name to call if she ever had to find something.

"_He's the one to contact if you need to find a needle in a haystack. But make sure the first time you call him it's for something good, something that will challenge him. Otherwise, he won't take you seriously."_

"_Is he in Starfleet Security?"_

_The old man snorted. "Heck no. He's independent. Does things his own way. But he's completely trustworthy and ridiculously good."_

That was endorsement enough for Kim.

She logged onto the comm net and initiated a contact.

A dark-skinned young man of about seventeen, sipping a drink through a straw, appeared on screen. Kim was surprised by his boyish countenance.

"Hi," he said, before taking another sip of his drink. He already knew that whoever was contacting him had to have been sent his way by Boothby.

"Excuse me, are you Wade Load?" Kim replied.

"In the flesh. And you would be?"

"Ensign Kim Possible, _USS Enterprise_."

"Possible. You wouldn't happen to be related to James Possible, the starship designer?"

"He's my father."

"Wow!" the young man exclaimed. "How can I help you?"

"A mutual friend suggested you might be able to find some information."

He leaned back in his chair and smiled. "I think I might be able to. For a price."

"A price?" Kim asked, realizing she didn't exactly have a budget for this kind of thing. "How much?"

"A set of starship schematics autographed by your dad!"

Kim laughed in relief. "Done."

"Okay, so what do you need to know?"

Kim explained.

Wade whistled. "That's a tall order, Kim. This may be difficult …" he said as he began working a series of computer consoles. "Okay! Here you go. I'm transmitting the data to you."

Kim's eyes opened wide. "Thanks, Wade."

"No problem. And you ever need help finding something your buddies at Starfleet can't find, feel free to give me a ring."

"I will. And Wade? You rock!"

VII.

He had unusually beady eyes. Kim didn't like the way he looked at her, even with two monitors and tens of billions of kilometers of space between her and her interlocutor.

"My name is Ensign Kim …"

"I do not care what your name is, hoo-mon. You are a female who wears clothes. That is depraved!"

Kim refrained from rolling her eyes. As a good Federation citizen, she knew she was supposed to respect cultural diversity. But when it came to Ferengi mores, she felt entitled to entertain a few biases. Unfortunately, she could not let them show.

"I did not mean to offend …"

"Enough. It is irrelevant. I do not do business over the comm nets and I do not do business with Starfleet."

Kim watched in shock as the screen went blank. She'd been cut off.

She stared at the screen, then growled. She looked at the chrono; it was 2310. She'd done enough for one day, especially now that she had to find a new line of attack. She knew the lead on Ras T'Klar would be worth pursuing. She pressed her comm badge, hoping Ron was still awake. "Possible to Stoppable."

"Stoppable here, KP. What up?"

"Well, the question is are you up?"

"Sure am, Kim. Me and Guinan are having a blast down here in Ten Forward!"

"Great," Kim said with an exaggerated sigh. "I've already lost you to another woman …"

"KP, you couldn't lose me even if you tossed me into a black hole."

"You're very sweet, Ron, you know that?"

"Hey, hey, gotta be for my bon-diggity new girlfriend …"

Kim giggled as she imagined Ron preening.

"… So, I know it's late, but would you still want some dessert?"

"Please and thank you."

"Badical. I'll head back to _Chez Ron_. Come by as soon as you want. I've got Linzer Torte for you."

"Oooh, chocolate! Spankin'!"

Kim loved chocolate.

VIII.

Ron was setting the dessert on the small coffee table by the couch. He'd dimmed the lights to a low setting and lit a number of candles. He was ready to wager large amounts of latinum that Kim would be shocked. While she may have decided that he was BF material, Ron suspected that she still instinctively saw him as goofy Ron, not romantic Ron. That was fine by him; he'd enjoy surprising her. Ron actually knew what he was doing. Working in the restaurant business, he'd learned all about the importance of creating just the right mood.

The door chimed and he walked over to greet his guest as he called out, "Come in!"

The door slid open and Kim walked in.

Kim looked around. "I'm impressed. Very impressed," she said as she walked over and kissed her boyfriend of sixteen hours. He'd done a nice job with breakfast the previous day, but this was completely different. That was elegant; this was romantic.

"I told you when I arrived, the Ronman's moves are known across the galaxy."

"Well, Ronman, news flash. Those moves are now mine and mine only. Got it?" she said as she brushed her lips against his. "Show 'em to anyone else and I'll be showing you 16 kinds of kung fu."

"Moves. You. Only. Yeah, I think I can remember that, KP!" Ron said brightly.

With his arm around her waist, Ron led Kim to dessert. Kim sat down and the long day suddenly caught up with her. She collapsed back into the couch, ignoring her cake. She just sat there, slumped. Ron saw how weary she was; he knew how hard she'd been working. He hooked his hand under her knee and swung her leg over his lap. Then he beckoned for the other one. Kim smiled at him as he pulled off her boots and began to massage her feet. He'd done this for her so many times before, but now there was an erotic dimension to it that she found quite agreeable. She sighed with pleasure.

"Beginning to relax?" Ron asked.

"Mmmm. That's great. No offense, but this is better than food. Ooooh, yesss."

Ron grinned, pleased to know he was delivering satisfaction. "So, how's the investigation going?"

Kim filled him in. "It's frustrating. I'm not sure what to do next."

"KP, the answer's right in front of you."

"What do you mean, Ron?"

"Mr. Ferengi said he didn't do business over the nets and he didn't do it with Starfleet."

"Meaning what?"

"Kim, Kim, Kim. Rule of Acquisition 114."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"You don't know the Ferengi Rules of Acquisition?"

Kim shook her head.

"Sha," he said dismissively. "And I thought they were teaching you important stuff at the Academy …"

"Ron …" Kim said, beginning to sound annoyed.

"… 114 says, 'If it's not taken off the table, it's still on the table.'"

"English, please and thank you."

"Your friend is a Ferengi. He lives to do business. He told you what he does _not_ do. That means everything else he _will _do … like business in person with a non-Starfleet type. Someone like, oh, me!"

Kim's eyes grew wide. "You have got to be kidding. You, I mean, Ron …"

Ron began to bristle. "Yeah, me," he said, ice in his voice. "Maybe I'm not smart enough to wear one of those uniforms, but I know my way around, Kim."

Kim sighed. "Ron, it's not a matter of you being smart enough to wear the uniform. It's just that, well, you're …"

"What, just a chef, right? Guess what, KP. I bet I've personally dealt with more Ferengi than you or most anyone on this ship has …" he said heatedly.

Kim realized just how much she'd offended Ron and felt bad. "Okay, amp down, Ron. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dis you." She leaned in and gave him a kiss.

"Don't think you can buy me off with cheap sex, lady."

"Oh? I can try," she purred seductively, before kissing him again.

"Okay, well, maybe you can," he said with a lusty grin. "Look, KP, just remember, I was your rescue team sidekick. There's more to me than my awesome good looks," he said, flexing his muscles, much to Kim's amusement. "Now, I may not have all sorts of bon-diggity Starfleet training," he continued, a bit more seriously, "but there are things I can do. And hold my own with a Ferengi in a negotiation is one of them." He could see he had piqued her interest. "When you've got an Andorian deputy chief of mission who is one of your best customers but who insists on drinking Romulan ale and your main competitor is rumored to be serving it, you learn how to get your hands on the stuff. Same with a Vulcan High Commissioner who has a thing for Cardassian mountain leeks."

"Ron, are you telling me you do business on the black market?"

"No, I do business with Ferengi who probably do business on the black market. KP, I'm just a lowly chef in the diplomatic capital of the galaxy who has to keep his demanding customers happy. My boss decided that if I was going to play in the restaurant big leagues, I need to know more than just how to cook. You'd be amazed at how being a dumb blond can work to my advantage."

Kim looked at Ron thoughtfully. _Maybe he's on to something. Ron's been in scrapes before. And it's not like this should be dangerous; I can keep an eye on him …_

"Are you serious, Ron? Are you really offering to help?"

"If you'd like my help, yeah. You should know by now I'd do anything for you, KP."

Kim smiled affectionately at him, knowing Ron meant what he had just said; he really would do anything for her. And it was the emotion behind that desire that so powerfully drew her to him. She knew he loved her. And she was accepting that she loved him, and actually had for quite some time; she'd just not been ready to see it. "Well, let's talk to Mr. Worf in the morning and see what he thinks." Then her warm smile turned into something wickedly playful. "But until then, I'd like your help with something else."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm hmmm," she replied coyly as she began to unzip the front of her duty uniform. Kim was blushing, but she was also looking directly into Ron's eyes with a disarming confidence. "I need your help in removing some of this non-regulation gear I'm wearing …"

Ron's eyes grew large and his face flushed as his best-friend-now-girlfriend undressed in front of him. _That underwear is definitely not Starfleet issue_, he thought, as a look of wonder spread across his face.

IX.

Shego, hidden away in a small apartment on a side street in a quiet neighborhood in Coscobbia, the main city of Ras T'klar, sat back in her chair, looking at the padd. Bunt had done as he was instructed. He'd contacted Shego as soon as he'd been contacted by Starfleet.

The raven-haired villain was looking at the personnel file for Ensign Kimberly Ann Possible. _Human from Mars, aged 22, single. Starfleet Security. Martial arts training._ It would be fun to take Possible down, Shego thought; hopefully, the opportunity would present itself. _Princess, I bet you'd be surprised to learn that all the training in the world means nothing in the face of an Orionisi pain inducer._

Shego grinned as she looked at the picture of the young officer. The Syndicate would pay her at least two bars of gold-pressed latinum for Kim Possible since they could turn around and sell her for at least twice that amount in the slave market.

_TBC …_


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks to Yuri Sisteble, captainkodak1, JPMod, Zaratan, JMAN2.0, Moss Royal, Txlonestar, daywalkr82, kemiztri, calamite, campy, Parareru, swiglo3000, surfost, strength-91-possibility-none, Louis Mielke, vanillalilies, momike, Commander Argus, Markv1.0, whitem, jasminevr, Ezbok58a, TexasDad, WhiteLadyoftheRing, kpandron, Wanderer3, conan98002, Cabriel, mattb3671, Taechunsa, Emerald Dark Knight, MichaelCross, Ace Ian Combat, Goinghome, Dixon-San, and Molloy for reviewing.

A special thank you, as always, to campy for his invaluable beta and proofing work; since he didn't enjoy the gagh, I've sent him some heart of targ.

Remember: write a review, get a personal response beamed directly to your email box!

Just a reminder: if you haven't checked out _The Darkness Within_, the collaborative GWA effort in which I'm participating, do so now. You won't be disappointed.

_KP_ belongs to Disney, _TNG_ to Paramount.

* * *

I.

Ron looked over at the sleeping figure of his best-friend-turned-girlfriend. He took in the expression of peace and contentment on her face, the auburn hair spread about the pillow – and the bare shoulder and arm visible above the edge of the covers. Ron was feeling many things: love, lust, happiness, satisfaction. But most of all he felt awe. Hours before, Kim Possible had invited Ron Stoppable to go where no man had gone before.

It had been a wonderful, if unexpected, evening. Ron helped Kim with her uniform, then she helped him with his clothes; they began kissing and passion led them along. Then things grew awkward. So sitting there in an advanced state of undress, they talked: about things they had done with other people, their new relationship, their hopes for the future, the challenges of being in two different places, making the most of the time they had together. And then they agreed that they were playing for all the marbles. Once they had reached that understanding, Kim broached the topic.

"I know its been less than 24 hours since we told each other how felt for each, but I feel like we've been together forever," Kim said.

"I know what you mean, KP," Ron replied, before chuckling. "Remember how Bonnie Rockwaller used to taunt you about us being a couple? Maybe she was right, after all."

Kim stroked Ron's face. "I wish I'd been smart enough to date you in high school."

Ron got a funny look on his face.

"What? Spill!"

"I, uh, had the biggest crush on you. Man, that cheer outfit," he said sheepishly, turning red.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Kim asked, both relieved and disappointed he hadn't. If she'd turned him down, that would have affected their friendship – and then they wouldn't be here together at this moment. And for all her good qualities, Kim Possible could now admit that when it came to guys, especially back when she was a teenager, she'd wanted to be with the 'hotties' – and sixteen-year-old Ron Stoppable was not a hottie. Yet the thought that she and Ron could have gotten together romantically years earlier left her feeling wistful.

"Didn't want to chance a rejection. Our friendship was too important to me. So I decided that I was just a healthy teen-aged male with the hots for you and you know the rest of the story. It was probably all for the best, though, gave me a chance to grow up …"

"Me too, Ron. Though if I had a time machine, I'd go back and tell my teen-aged self what a great BF you'd be. But I'm glad we're together now, when I can handle a real relationship with you …" she smiled.

He returned the smile then said with an exaggerated wink, "Then I guess you really are the girl who can do anything!"

They looked at one another. Eighteen years had led them to this moment.

"Ron," she said huskily, "would you like to … take home base?" Kim, with a certainty she'd never before experienced, knew what she wanted, but she was still unused to talking about it. She may have dated other men, even been with Tom Carter for three months, but she'd only been willing to go so far. With Ron it was different. She was ready to share everything with him.

"Home plate, Kimbo, home _plate_," he corrected breezily, without thinking. "The bases are at …" Ron stopped mid-sentence as he realized what Kim had just asked. "Eeep." Ron could now see that Kim was smiling seductively at him. "Uh, wow, I mean, are you sure, KP …"

"So sure, Ron. But only if you want to, too," she said, moving closer to him, in a way that she hoped would help him make the decision she preferred.

"Well, uh, yeah! I mean I'd love to. With you. Wow," Ron's rambling was cut off by Kim's lips.

"Shhh. Let's try communicating a different way …"

Ron's willingness to risk talking about his feelings fed Kim's confidence – she was raised, after all, to believe that anything was possible for a Possible – in moving their relationship to a new level of intimacy. That, in turn, inspired greater confidence in Ron, which she, in turn, found highly attractive. And so it went. It was the first time for both Kim and Ron, and with it all the usual clumsiness, fumbling and discomfort, but the experience was more fulfilling than either of them ever imagined possible. That was why Ron was surprised when she looked into his eyes afterwards and remarked, "I think we can do much better, don't you?"

"What?" he asked, suddenly deflated, "I thought it was pretty good."

"Actually, it was terrific, Ron," Kim said earnestly. "But don't you think we need to practice? A lot?" she asked, grinning.

The proverbial ancient-earth light bulb went on over Ron's head. "Oooooh. Practice! I'm all about practicing. Gotta do my best for my KP!"

Kim looked hungrily at Ron. "See, Potential Boy? I always told you you'd be happy if you just applied yourself …"

And so Ron applied himself until both he and Kim, overcome by exhaustion, finally fell asleep. Now he was awake, marveling at his good fortune. He noticed the clock; in an hour they'd have to get up so Kim could go on duty. Ron settled back into the bed and was quite pleased when Kim rolled onto her side and snuggled up to him.

Ron really was loving this ship.

II.

Growing up on Mars, and then studying at the Academy on Earth, Kim had always had trouble waking up in the morning. So it was a great surprise to her when she discovered after boarding _Enterprise_ that she could wake up without an alarm; in fact, each morning, she woke up at 0555, ship's time. Sometimes, on an off-duty day, she'd go back to sleep. But not today; she was on duty, with lots to do.

She gazed at Ron. His mop of hair was a mess and he snored. Yet she couldn't help but smile as she found him to be irresistibly cute. Slowly, she began to move her hand down his stomach to his Essential Ron-ness. Once she found what she wanted, she let her fingers linger; Ron soon began to wake up.

"Oh, man, no, can't wake up. Dream too good to end," he moaned.

Kim smiled languidly, pleased with the effect she was having on Ron.

He looked over and, through sleepy eyes, saw her grinning visage.

"Morning, Ron," she purred.

"Morning, KP. Oooooo," he said as he fully comprehended what was happening. "You can wake me up anytime!"

She kissed him. "Thanks. I think I'll take you up on that offer. Now I hate to run, but I'd better work out before my shift."

"Hey, we could, uh, work out here, burn off some calories …" he suggested hopefully.

"I like the way you think," she replied as her cheeks reddened. "But I don't think that kind of workout will help me fend off an attacking Cardassian."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Ron acknowledged, disappointment in his voice.

She gave him a peck on the tip of his nose. "Don't fret – we can 'work out' tonight. And you can think of this during the day." Kim then threw off the covers and gave Ron a sight to remember her by.

"Wow," Ron said in an awe-filled whisper. "KP, you are so beautiful."

"Thanks, Ron," she said demurely, as she blushed again. Then she tugged the covers off Ron and looked at him. "And you're not bad yourself," she added with a girlish giggle.

Not surprisingly, after looking at Ron in all his essential glory, Kim changed her mind and decided that a much abbreviated workout session that morning would be acceptable.

III.

"I must say that this would be highly unorthodox," Picard said to the three officers standing in his Ready Room.

"That may be, sir, but I believe that Ensign Possible's idea is with merit and should be considered," Data noted.

"I agree," Worf added.

"But he has no training …" Picard countered.

"True, sir, but I reviewed the personnel records. Ron has significantly more experience dealing with Ferengi traders than anyone else on board _Enterprise_," Kim said, unable to hide a hint of pride.

"Even if that is the case, Ensign, he is also a loose cannon who might well say something incredibly inappropriate," the Captain said, ice in his voice.

Kim began to fume. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

Picard arched an eyebrow and pursed his lips. "Permission granted, Ensign."

"You're holding his bathroom comment against him." Kim stated this as fact, not as a question. "That is ferociously unfair."

"Ensign, I gave you permission to speak freely, not flippantly," Picard admonished her.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. But I stand by my point. Ron had never been on board the bridge of a starship. How was he supposed to know that this was your office? It really wasn't unreasonable for him to think that this was a restroom. The bridge is the center of everything that happens on the ship, after all; having a bathroom nearby would make sense"

"Ensign Possible makes a reasonable point, Captain," Data offered.

"And I know he babbled, sir. But he was so nervous and worried about embarrassing me in front of you that he, well, dug a hole for himself. I feel very confident saying that Ron would not intentionally do anything that would jeopardize this ship, if only because he wouldn't want to make me look bad."

Picard saw the expression on Kim's face as she talked about Ron. "You realize that you need to set aside your personal feelings when you are on your mission?" Picard asked.

"Yes, sir. And so does Ron. He knows that this is business. We're not a couple of kids looking for an adventure."

Picard thought about the matter for a few moments, then made his decision. "Very well, Ensign," he said before pressing his comm badge. "Number One, set a course for Ras T'klar."

IV.

It was less than an hour after Picard had given the order to head for Ras T'klar when the distress call came in from the medical transport; _Enterprise_ would have to rendezvous with the ship to salvage its supply of serum, which was needed on Paxel IV.

Kim and Ron now stood before the captain.

"Ensign, if I am correct, you are rated to fly a shuttle solo."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Then you will deliver Mr. Stoppable to Ras T'klar." Picard looked at Ron. "Do what you need to do, and get out of there as quickly as you can."

"Will do, Captain," Ron agreed, trying to look as professional as he could before Kim's commanding officer.

"Good. Dismissed." The captain watched as Kim and Ron left his inner sanctum, then smiled. _Ah_, he thought. _To be young, in love, and alone in a shuttle for seven hours._ Jean-Luc Picard was fully confident that the two young people would do their best. As sure as he was that they'd enjoy the trip to and from their destination.

V.

Ron sat nervously on the bed in Sickbay. To ensure that Kim could maintain a lock on Ron's position at all times, he was going to be injected with isotopes that could be tracked from up to three klicks away by a specially modified tricorder. The isotopes would react to changes in blood pressure, respiratory rates and cardiac activity; if Ron was in danger, the readings on the tricorder would change and Kim would know that he was in need of assistance. Since he was going undercover he couldn't risk a comm badge or any other equipment that could tie him to Starfleet.

"It's so not the drama, Ron. You'll be fine," Kim chided.

"But Kim, I hate shots," Ron whined.

"Hey, at least we don't live in the 20th century when they used needles."

Ron's eyes popped open wide and a look of panic spread across his face. "N-needles?"

"Chill, Ron. I'm right here," Kim said as she squeezed his hand.

"Yeah, sure, KP. No reason to be scared. The Ronman can handle this," he said, sounding unconvinced.

"C'mon, Ron. It's no big. I mean, you volunteered to go on an Away Mission to meet with a suspect Ferengi black marketeer."

"That's different, KP."

"How so?"

"Ferengi don't scare me. Shots do." They had every since that horrible summer at Camp Wannaweep on Earth's moon.

VI.

Picard wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Kim was sitting on Ron's lap, kissing her boyfriend slowly and passionately. She reluctantly broke off when the computer announced, "One hour to arrival at Ras T'klar." She gave him a light peck on the forehead, then said, "Sorry, Ron, but time to get our heads in the game."

"Fair 'nuff, KP," he replied, ready to do his job. He really wanted Kim to crack this case so she could get the promotion she deserved.

"So, you know the plan?"

"Yeah, I beam down, spend some time looking like a tourist and make my way to the rendezvous point. You'll beam down later and at a different location, but begin tailing me three blocks from Bunt's ten minutes before I'm ready to go in. I talk with him and try not to let him steal my shoes and sell them back to me …"

Kim chuckled.

"… Oh, you laugh now, Kim Possible. But wait till you have a Ferengi try Rule of Acquisition 5 on you."

She looked at Ron with curiosity.

"'The highest form of profit is to get something from someone for nothing, then sell it back to him.' I'm telling ya, Kim. If there's a way to turn a Cochrane, they've got all their bases covered."

"You almost sound like you admire them, Ron."

"In a weird way, I do. They lie, cheat, steal, and swindle. But they're refreshingly honest about it!"

Kim laughed again, then mussed Ron's hair.

"Anyway, after I get out we meet at the beam-out point. Once you see me there, you'll beam us both out. If that place doesn't work, we try point B and so on until we can get back to the shuttle."

"You're going to do great, Ron. Now, it looks like we've got a little time before we arrive in orbit. I want to do a check on some of the systems and if we have any time left, I think I may have some ideas on how to spend it …"

Ron approved of the look on Kim's face as she said that.

VII.

Ron was glad that Kim had chosen a back alley as his beam-in point. The moment he materialized in Coscobbia, his trousers fell to his ankles. He looked down, shaking his head. With a grin, he reached down, pulled up his pants, and then, feeling particularly smart, put on the spare belt he'd brought along.

Ron looked at his chrono. He had 97 minutes to make his way to Bunt's; he could head there in a leisurely fashion. He made his way out to a street and began heading towards the Grand Bazaar. He was impressed by the diversity of species he saw coming and going; it made the crew of _Enterprise_ look homogenous.

Ras T'klar, the Treaty Planet, lay near the point where the Federation, and the Klingon and Romulan Empires converged. Through a combination of diplomatic cunning, the occasional threat to deploy mutagenic weapons, and a willingness to serve as a neutral ground where any and all governments, enterprises, and individuals could meet, palaver, and deal, Ras T'klar was able to maintain its independence. In addition to being a place where diplomacy could play out, the Treaty Planet now served as an entrepot for hundreds of races from across the Alpha Quadrant. One could buy anything – or anyone – there.

Ron was in the Old City. He marveled at the ancient stone buildings, the reddish sky, and the three moons, plus the exploded debris of two others, which faintly dappled the daytime sky. The place was beguiling. He thought that it would have been cool to explore the city with Kim. He grinned, thinking that there were a lot of places he wanted to visit with her. He looked forward to doing that. For now though, he had a job to do and he wanted to do it well. He now had a girlfriend to impress, after all.

Ron passed a number of stalls and shops selling all sorts of things. But one shop in particular caught his eye; it was as if the store was calling him.

He wandered into a place filled with clutter, junk really. An old Tellarite sat behind a counter and warily eyed Ron, who waved and made sure his hands remained visible so the shopkeeper wouldn't suspect him of wanting or trying to steal anything. Ron was about to leave when something in a dusty corner of the shop caught his eye. He wandered over and reached back to withdraw the object. It was a bat'leth.

He picked it up. The wood of the handle was dry and cracked. Yet it fit Ron's hands perfectly. And he'd have sworn he felt a slight frisson of energy when he first gripped it. The blade was tarnished and rusted. Yet Ron could discern a delicate, wondrous filigree etched into the surface. He lifted the weapon, which seemed to be perfectly weighted.

"Ah, I see you have found something!" the shopkeeper growled.

"Huh? This?"

"Yes, it's the Sword of Kahless."

Ron had to think for a moment. Then a scowl appeared on his face as he remembered the name from his Klingon Mayhem games. "Dude, don't play me."

"What are you talking about?" the trader asked, a note of hostility in his voice.

"You heard me, you ugly thief," Ron snapped back. He was glad that Henri had taught him how to deal with Tellarites, in addition to Ferengi. The only way to gain their respect was by being insufferably rude. "There is no way a bat'leth belonging to the greatest warrior in Klingon history would be sitting in a dump like this!"

"Like you'd know, you scrawny human!" the shopkeeper spat back.

"I know when someone's trying to cheat me, you lousy robber," Ron snapped. "But I guess I need a trinket from my trip. What do you want for this rusted piece of junk?"

"Five bars of gold-pressed latinum."

Ron started laughing. _This guy is nuts! _he thought. _I wonder if he actually thinks it's real. _"Oh, man, that's rich. Tell you what. I'll give you two strips ..."

The Tellarite snorted. Given the size of his snout, it was an impressive sound.

"Four bars."

"Too rich for my blood, dude. I'm outta here." Ron walked to the front door. The blade was neat, and he did like holding it. But four bars of gold-pressed latinum was out of the question.

Ron had just exited the shop when he felt a hand grab his arm. _Great, a pickpocket_, he thought.

He found himself looking into the cloudy eyes of an aged Klingon. The stranger was wearing a dirty, hooded robe, vaguely reminiscent of the garb worn by an old Earth monk. There was something unsettling about his gaze, even more so than Worf's when he was drunk.

"You really should not leave Ras T'klar without a … memento of your visit."

"What?"

"Let me tell you a story, human, about Kahless the Unforgettable …"

The coincidence was just too freaky for Ron. The monk had his full attention.

"… He was a warrior, brave and true, one who always sought out similar men, forging bonds with them, choosing to fight by their side." The aged man paused. "It is said that he sought to do so even after his death."

"How? By haunting people?" Ron asked, thinking this was one of the weirdest conversations he would ever have; he didn't expect to be hearing Klingon ghost stories while helping his best friend/girlfriend with Starfleet business.

"Do not be a fool!" the Klingon spat out. "Kahless had a bat'leth. It was not the most elegant weapon, nor the most beautiful, but with it in hand, he was always victorious in battle. Kahless treasured that blade; it was his most prized possession – and this was a man who forged an Empire. Legend has it that he impressed his memory engrams into the steel of its blade, enabling the weapon to sense those with whom Kahless would wish to be brothers, to find those who are pure of heart, who are willing to sacrifice themselves for those they hold dear. Kahless' bat'leth has not been seen in generations, though there are rumors that it is … here."

"What? In there?"

"Yes," the Klingon stated. "You should acquire it."

"Why?" Ron asked. This situation was getting increasingly bizarre by the moment.

"One finds a treasure like that once in a lifetime. If one is lucky. Men would kill for it."

"Why? Would it give me super fighting powers?" he asked sarcastically.

With a dead serious face the Klingon answered. "Only if you were the Chosen One."

"Uh, yeah. Chosen One. Sure. Right. Um, let's just say I didn't know what you meant by that?"

"The Sword would tell you."

"O-kaaaay. And how would you even know you were the Chosen One?"

"The Sword would …" the monk began.

"Yeah, yeah, tell me," Ron concluded.

The old man stared at Ron, who felt like holes were being bored through his skull. "Think carefully, human."

"Why are you even telling me to buy this thing? I'm not even Klingon!"

"It matters not, human. The fates of your people and mine have long been joined, have they not?" The ancient Klingon cackled, then turned and hurried away from the shop.

Ron watched skeptically as the man disappeared into the crowd. It was a crazy story. But it was kind of cool. And that would make having the bat'leth, which he was sure had to be a fake, a lot more fun.

He went back into the shop and found the tarnished weapon.

"You have returned," the Tellarite snarled.

"Yeah, I've got nothing better to do with my day than haggle with you. Two and a half strips."

"Two bars."

"C'mon, Dude. You know it's not real. Maybe it's a reproduction, but it's in crummy shape."

The Tellarite narrowed his eyes. He really knew nothing of the weapon's provenance, other than the fairy tale he'd been told by the seller, a decrepit, half-crazed Klingon monk, who had sold it to him and who had been loitering in the street by the shop for days. The merchant knew the human was negotiating; the Tellarite knew he could make a sale. And business had been slow in recent weeks …

"One bar and it's yours."

"Two and a half strips and no more," Ron countered. He hoped the Tellarite would agree; Ron found himself really wanting the bat'leth.

"Five strips."

Ron smiled. He was about to stand his ground, but he couldn't ignore the feel of the wooden handle against the palms of his hand. _Man, it feels good_, he thought. _Like it's a part of me. So much better than the trainers Worf had me work with. Besides, Kim will think it's really cool and I know she'll like the story. I've gotta have it._ "Deal."

A couple of minutes later, Ron walked out onto the teeming streets of Coscobbia with his very own bat'leth. He couldn't help but think it was pretty badical. _Who's da man?_ he asked himself. _I'm da man. I'm dating Kim, I'm on a secret mission, and now I've got this bon-diggity blade!_

VIII.

The Old City reminded Kim of a place she'd seen depicted in an old Earth film that she and Ron had watched back in high school during one of their cultural history classes. _What was it called? _she asked herself, wracking her memory. _That's it! Casablanca!_ For a brief moment, she imagined Ron wearing the white dinner jacket with black tie that the star of the movie had worn, and smiled. He'd actually look quite dashing, she decided; she'd have to suggest a historical role play on the holodeck to him when they returned to _Enterprise_.

Kim was now in position. She picked up Ron as he turned the corner. _Where did he get that?_ she wondered as she noticed he was carrying what had to be a sheathed bat'leth. She smiled. Ron was so weird. Not many people would buy a Klingon weapon as a souvenir. But in addition to being weird, he was now hers and she wouldn't have it any other way. _Okay, head in the game, Possible. You can daydream about him later._

Kim discretely confirmed that her tricorder was still operational as she wove her way through the crowd. It wasn't unusual for a Starfleet officer to be wandering the streets. Starfleet, Klingon Imperial Forces, crews from Romulan warbirds could all be seen in the city. None of them, however, were armed. Directed energy weapons had been rendered useless by a series of dampening fields located throughout the city. And other weapons were generally not seen because of the horrible punishments the government meted out for their use. Ron's bat'leth, as long as it remained sheathed, would attract no notice. If it was used and the authorities learned about that, things would be much different.

The T'klarians had no qualms about dealing harshly with any violators of their laws, and that included members of the uniformed services of the three great interstellar empires. The T'klarians were determined to maintain their independence and their status as one of the galaxy's premier trading and meeting stations; that required keeping the peace, whatever the cost. Despite the mercenary nature of commerce on the planet, Ras T'klar remained remarkably safe.

Kim saw Ron enter Bunt's premises. She looked around and found a café where she could occupy herself with a cup of the local equivalent of tea while Ron did his business. She went in, found a table, placed her order and settled in with a book padd while she waited for Ron.

IX.

This was where Kim and Ron were gambling. Ron had to just show up at Bunt's establishment; they didn't have time to stage a full-fledged surveillance of the Ferengi and they could not afford to tip him off to their presence and give him a chance to go into hiding. If Bunt suspected he was being watched, he would be on guard when Ron appeared. Kim and Ron agreed that Ron had to simply walk through the front door and hope their quarry was there to do business; Ron was fairly confident that Bunt, if he wasn't off-planet, would be at his place of commerce during business hours. Ferengi always liked to do business, and they preferred to do it on their own turf.

Ron reached for the old-fashioned doorknob and turned. The door was unlocked. He opened it and walked through.

The space was huge, though nobody would have guessed that from looking at the building's exterior. Bunt, or one of his predecessors, must have acquired a number of properties and knocked down the interior walls while keeping the façade. From the outside, Ron had thought he would be going into a very small building. Instead, Ron found himself looking around a cavernous space. Large crates were stacked all around the room; he was sure that he saw the nose of a shuttlecraft in the rear of the warehouse.

"Yo, anybody here?" he asked.

Nobody replied. Ron found the silence unnerving, but he didn't get scared. Bunt might be giving him the once-over from a concealed location, deciding whether he wanted to do business with the visiting human. After what seemed an eternity, a fat, aged Ferengi emerged from the shadows.

He cocked his head and looked suspiciously at Ron.

"What do you want?" the merchant asked warily.

Ron ignored his host for a moment and looked around. Nonchalantly, he asked, "Information."

The Ferengi hissed. "Look around you, Hoo-mon. I do not sell information. I sell things."

"That's too bad, dude. I'm not looking for things. I need information. I guess I'll just have to go and take my gold-pressed latinum with me."

Ron turned back to the door.

"Wait …"

A small smile played across Ron's face. Greed had won out over suspicion.

"… What do you want to know?" the Ferengi asked.

Ron had turned back to face Bunt. "I need to know about someone …"

The Ferengi craned his neck.

"… Someone you helped with the sale of a Duotronic Memory Capacitor." Ron's heart was racing. Though he was relieved that he'd not misspoken when he named the stolen part, he knew that this was the moment of truth and he didn't want to let Kim down.

Bunt's eyes opened wide. The merchant looked like he'd just been hit.

_Booyah!_ Ron thought. _This guy knows. But wait. He seems … scared. Not good. Booyah denied?_

"Leave. Now." the Ferengi ordered.

"Did I mention that I'm willing to pay you twenty bars of pure gold-pressed latinum?" Ron once again began to turn away from Bunt, again hoping that greed would prove to be the most powerful of Ferengi impulses, this time stronger than fear.

Bunt was torn. To tell this human about Shego would not be wise; he still remembered being slammed against the wall. But the human wasn't with Starfleet or GJ or any other law enforcement agency; Bunt had scanned the visitor's image the moment he walked into the warehouse, checked it against the Federation databases to which Shego had gained him access, and found nothing. And he was offering a tremendous amount of money. Perhaps the silly-looking human actually worked for one of Shego's competitors. And he was carrying a bat'leth. What, the Ferengi wondered, if he was crazy and decided to use it?

As if sensing Bunt's concerns, Ron unstrapped the sheath from his back.

"Twenty-five bars," the Ferengi demanded.

"Twenty-one," Ron countered.

"Twenty-four," Bunt suggested.

Ron paused. "Twenty-three, dude, and no more haggling."

"Deal." For that kind of money, Bunt was willing to be beaten up a second time. He'd have enough for hospital costs and to pay someone to permanently take care of Shego.

Ron handed the merchant two bars of gold-pressed latinum and began the process of transferring the rest to the Ferengi's account. "I'll complete the transaction when I've received the information"

"Her name is Shego."

"Shego?"

"Yes. She's very, very dangerous, hoo-mon. You would best stay out of her way."

"How much did she get for the Capacitor?"

"That will cost you more, hoo-mon."

"Fine. I'll throw in an extra five."

The Ferengi's eyes opened wide.

"Don't get any ideas, dude," Ron cautioned, suspecting the Ferengi was beginning to wonder if he should try to kill the wealthy human and make off with his riches. "I go missing, people will come looking for you. Big, ugly Nausicaan people who will hurt you, then kill you. Slowly and painfully." Ron had never even met a Nausicaan, but he knew that at heart, most Ferengi were easily cowed; only the possibility of profit helped them summon courage and he suspected that even this Ferengi's cupidity would have its limits.

"Nothing ..."

That surprised Ron.

"… We effected a trade. She wanted a Verteron Array Trigger."

Ron began repeating that information to himself. He hadn't a clue as to what the Ferengi was talking about. Then, he decided to ask a question to which he suspected he'd get no answer.

"You have any idea what she was going to do with it?"

Ron was right. He wasn't going to get an answer. But that was because Bunt was struck in the chest by a bolt of plasma energy.

He looked up at the source of the strike: a very attractive, raven-haired woman with green tinted skin. And two freakily glowing hands.

X.

Kim, who had always been interested in interstellar diplomacy, was re-reading the _Memoirs_ of Vulcan Ambassador T'Pol. Kim had always been most engaged by the redoubtable Vulcan's adventures during and after the Romulan War, when she made the transition from explorer to trouble-shooter to diplomat, ultimately becoming Vulcan's ambassador to the Federation. But what now fascinated her were the chapters about T'Pol's time on the first _Enterprise_, and specifically her relationship with Charles Tucker, the Chief Engineer who had sacrificed his life to ensure that Jonathan Archer would be present for the founding of the Federation. Tucker had become T'Pol's closest friend on the ship; they had even had a brief affair. What struck Kim, however, was that in a life that spanned more than 200 years, T'Pol expressed only one regret: her failure to reignite her relationship with Tucker when she had the chance. After their brief romance, they spent seven years as friends. Then, when they tentatively began exploring the possibility of resuming their relationship, he died. Kim was grateful that she and Ron had acknowledged their feelings for one another; she hoped that things would work out better for them than they did for T'Pol and Tucker.

As she was thinking about the Vulcan and the Terran, her tricorder began beeping. Kim looked at the readout. She turned off the padd and bolted from her seat.

Ron was in danger.

XI.

Ron may not have been the smartest citizen of the Federation, but it didn't require genius to figure out who he was facing.

He began to make a break for the door. He was stopped in his tracks as plasma bolts exploded in his path. As he quickly looked around, trying to decide what to do next, Shego blasted a stack of crates; Ron dodged out of their way as they toppled over. Though he was safe, getting to the exit was now going to take a lot more effort.

"So, who sent you? Starfleet?" Shego asked menacingly.

"Uh, Starfleet? Don't know what you're talking about," Ron lied. "I'm just a cook."

"A cook. You honestly expect me to believe that?" she sneered as she advanced on him.

"Uh, yeah, actually. _Sous chef_ at Mistral in San Francisco. Uh, if you come I can get you a good table. I'll even make you a free dinner. Heh heh." Ron was terrified. Dickering with a venal Ferengi was one thing; facing down this woman who could shoot plasma from her hands was a wholly different matter.

"Look, cupcake, I don't have time for this." Shego then did something that shocked Ron. She launched into a triple flip and landed right in front of him. Somehow, he quickly found himself with his back against a crate. He regretted that the bat'leth was still sheathed as Shego held a glowing hand in front of his face. "Now tell me. Who sent you?"

XII.

Kim very quietly opened the front door. She cursed as she found her way blocked by a barrier of crates. Then she heard voices. A woman. And Ron.

"_So, who sent you? Starfleet?"_

"_Uh, Starfleet? Don't know what you're talking about, I'm just a cook."_

Kim surveyed the barrier; moving with the sure-footedness of a mountain goat, she quickly bounded to the top of the stack then crawled to the edge, just in time to see Shego land in front of Ron.

"_Who sent you?"_

Kim jumped off the crates and landed on Shego, knocking her to the floor. Kim looked up at a stunned Ron. "Run! Now!" she ordered.

Ron did as he was told, assuming Kim would follow him. She began to get up, but Shego, who had regained her composure, grabbed Kim's leg.

"Nuh uh, Not so fast, Princess," Shego admonished Kim as she twisted Kim's calf, bringing the young officer down roughly. Kim grunted as she hit the hard surface of the warehouse floor; the sound caught Ron's attention. He instinctively stopped and turned to his girlfriend. As he did, Shego blasted Ron with a plasma bolt.

Kim, now on her hands and knees as she was getting up, watched as Ron, struck by the ball of energy, was spun around from the impact before collapsing to the cold, hard warehouse floor. Kim felt a surge of horror as she realized she might have just watched her boyfriend die.

_TBC …_


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to Captainkodak1, Parareru, Zaratan, JMAN2.0, strength-91-possibility-none, daywalkr82, Moss Royal, JPMod, calamite, mattb3671, Louis Mielke, surforst, whitem, Yuri Sisteble, Markv1.0, Ezbok58a, kemiztri, jaminevr, Jak4, Commander Argus, Darkcloud1, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Morsamare, TexasDad, chefjet, ComputerSherpa, Theta-Alpha-One, Cabriel, momike, Wanderer3, conan98002, Dixon-San, Emerald Dark Knight, campy, Visigoth29527, vanillalillies, kpandron, Ulimate Naco Topping, Slyfer, and Molloy for reviewing.

Thanks to everyone else for reading.

A special thank you, as always, to campy for his invaluable beta and proofing work; he seems to have enjoyed the targ, so I've sent another batch, this time with Diablo sauce.

Remember: write a review, get a personal response beamed directly to your email box!

Just a reminder: if you haven't checked out _The Darkness Within_, the collaborative GWA effort in which I'm participating, do so now. You won't be disappointed. Three chapters are up and a fourth is coming soon.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed _Failure Is Not An Option_. If you haven't read it yet, why not give it a try … you never know what kind of surprises you may find out there in fanfic-world.

_KP_ belongs to Disney, _TNG_ to Paramount.

**

* * *

Kim in TNG uniform! Since a number of you have asked in reviews and emails which uniform Kim is wearing, I've posted a drawing of "real world" Kim and Ron, both in 24th century togs, on my dA page. Just go to my FF net author profile page and follow the link to my devART page to find the pic.**

* * *

I.

Kim sprung to her feet and assumed a defensive position, facing Shego, who stood between her and Ron.

"You look angry, Princess. Were you attached to him?" Shego said with a wicked grin.

Kim seethed. _Head in the game. Head in the game. I have to keep my head in the game,_ she repeated in her mind. She knew she couldn't help Ron if she wasn't fully engaged with the situation and wholly in command of her emotions. Kim silently glared at her foe.

"Well, if you weren't," Shego gibed, "and he survives, I might just keep him for myself. He may be kind of goofy looking, but I've always wanted my own personal chef."

"I don't know who you are," Kim finally snarled, "but you'll pay for hurting him."

"I don't think so, Possible," Shego said much to Kim's evident surprise. "Oh yes, I know all about you, Starfleet," she added with a predatory smile before launching into an attack which Kim barely avoided.

Kim pivoted on her left leg and kicked at Shego; Shego dodged. Kim quickly resumed her fighting stance. Shego responded with a kick of her own, which Kim just evaded. As Shego's leg sailed past Kim, Kim grabbed it and used the other woman's forward momentum to throw her. Shego landed in a sprawl, then quickly jumped up.

"Good reflexes, Princess," Shego sneered. "But can you handle this?"

Kim found herself looking at two plasma-enveloped hands. She slowly backed off, resurveying her surroundings.

"Why don't you run?" Shego taunted as she launched a series of plasma bolts at Kim, who responded by doing a series of back flips to avoid being hit.

Kim then saw the bat'leth from the corner of her eye; when Ron fell it had slipped free of its sheath. She lunged for the weapon, grabbed it, rolled, and sprung up. Kim held the blade expertly and confidently, communicating to Shego that she knew how to use it.

The two women warily gauged each other. Kim had more than enough evidence around her of just how dangerous her adversary was. And Shego was impressed with the young officer's skills and fortitude. She would actually be a challenge.

They had begun to slowly circle one another when the unmistakable sound of sirens began to pierce the air. A slightly open door, the noise of things crashing to the ground, and the sound of small blasts must have drawn somebody's attention, because local law enforcement appeared to be on its way. Shortly, they heard muffled voices; the authorities had arrived.

Shego spun around and leaped onto some crates. "Well, it's been fun, Princess, but we'll have to finish this another time. I'm outta here." In moments, she was gone.

Kim knew she, too, had to leave, and quickly. It would not do well for the local security personnel to find her with a possibly dead Ferengi, an injured Ron, and an unsheathed bat'leth, not to mention the plasma blast burns that scarred the warehouse. Still holding the Klingon weapon, she ran to Ron, knelt by his side and grabbed his hand. Then, with both their hands, she pressed her comm badge. "Possible to _Aubrey_. Initiate automated transport."

Kim and Ron dematerialized just as the T'klarian police, shouting at her to surrender, made their way around the barrier of toppled crates.

II.

Immediately after they materialized on the shuttle's small transporter pad, Kim checked to see if Ron had a pulse.

He did.

She let out a sigh of relief. He might be injured, but he was alive. She got up carefully, then gingerly moved him to the deck of the small spacecraft. Kim pulled up his shirt and swore as she saw the livid bruise from Shego's plasma blast covering his chest. She then grabbed a medical tricorder and ran it over him; his injuries weren't life threatening. Though Kim wanted to tend to his wound, she knew that her first priority now was to get out of the star system. She didn't know whether the authorities had actually seen her uniform before they beamed out; if they had, they might tie her to the orbiting Starfleet shuttle and decide to intercept. Then she and Ron would both be in a T'klarian jail, where he would receive no medical attention, instead of _Enterprise_'s sickbay where he could be cared for, and she would have to let her perpetrator remain free and at large.

Kim had just sat down at the pilot's console when she saw that two T'klarian interceptors were heading in her direction.

Then she heard the message coming in over the comm system_: "Federation shuttle, prepare to be escorted to Ras T'kar."_

"So not going to happen," Kim muttered as she entered a series of commands.

"_Repeat, Federation shuttle, prepare to be escorted to Ras T'klar."_

"Sorry, can't hear you. Your transmission's breaking up," Kim replied as she turned the shuttle on its axis. Kim then throttled up the spacecraft's engines to one-quarter impulse, a dangerously high speed within a planetary system. Other ships, satellites, flying debris, meteors, and all sorts of hazards would have to be navigated, not to mention the remains of the two long-ago exploded moons that formed a shell around Ras T'klar. But Kim wanted to get away, and fast. She had to reach a position above the plane of the star system so she could safely go to warp. Kim hoped that her superior piloting skills and the fact that the interceptors would be flown by drones would allow her to make her escape.

The T'klarian ships followed. One of the interceptors fired at the shuttle, its disruptor beam just missing as Kim jinked. Another shot followed and the shuttle rocked. Kim did a quick check; nothing appeared to be damaged.

The shuttle was hit again; this time Ron rolled into a bulkhead and was jarred into consciousness. He sat up, ignoring the pain in his side, and looked forward to see Kim in the pilot's seat.

"Yo, KP, what up?"

Kim didn't even look back. "So can't talk now, Ron. Kind of busy." She saw from her displays that the interceptors were maintaining their pursuit. _Time to see what this baby can do_, Kim thought. "Get a seat or grab onto something," she ordered. "NOW!"

Ron got to his feet, and sat in the first available seat. "Okay, Kim, I'm …"

Kim jinked the shuttle at crazy angles, overwhelming the craft's inertial dampeners, as she dodged disruptor fire and continued to her destination.

Ron felt like he was about to throw up.

Kim still couldn't shake the T'klarians. _Snap. They're good_, she thought.

"Hey Kim, isn't this where you're supposed to fly over and behind them and then blow them up?"

"Ron, stop playing around. This isn't a holofilm!" she snapped.

"Well, sorry, I was just trying to help," he replied, sounding hurt.

"I know you were," she said in a more conciliatory voice, "but I need you to be quiet, please and thank you, so I can concentrate!"

Ron looked over at Kim, who was looking at her instruments with grim determination. He realized that Kim must have gotten him out of the warehouse, which meant she had somehow defeated, or at least held off, Shego. Worf was right: Kim really was a warrior. And even though Ron knew this wasn't the place to be self-indulgent, he once again began to feel incredibly inadequate, wondering what it was Kim could see in him.

III.

Kim was now drawing on all of her years of piloting experience. One of the benefits of being the daughter of the Federation's top starship designer was her access to space craft from an early age. It would have been inconceivable to James T. Possible that his daughter wouldn't know how to fly in space. So, at an early age, long before he really should have, he began to teach her himself. By the time Kim entered the Academy her piloting skills were so advanced that she was able to secure a place on the school's crack Nova Squadron aerobatics team.

Kim and her squadron mates had won the Rigel Cup her junior and senior years; but what they had to do then paled in comparison with what she was going to do now. Kim took a deep breath and entered the new coordinates into the onboard computer.

Ron, now seated beside her, looked out the view panel with horror.

"Uh, KP, you know you're flying into those, uh, asteroids?" he asked nervously.

"Yes, I do, Ron," she said curtly, but with just an edge of doubt. Then she looked at her best friend-turned-boyfriend and gave him a look that asked, "Please trust me."

Ron knew Kim well enough to know what she needed to hear from him. "Booyah! Looks like we're gonna see what this tub can do."

Kim flashed him a big grin then turned back to her controls. Ron could see that she was still smiling as she brought them closer to the debris field. _Amazing what a little Ronshine can do_, he thought.

IV.

"Okay, Ron, this may be a bit rough. Hold on!"

"You got it, KP!"

Ron refused to show it, but he was terrified. It wasn't that he didn't trust Kim. He just didn't trust the huge pieces of interstellar rock, each of which was spinning crazily on its own whack axis. Nor did he trust the two ships following them.

Kim began threading the needle of the debris field, avoiding the remains of the exploded moons and the disruptor fire from her pursuers. The small ship jerked left, right, up, down.

Ron found his gaze locked on Kim; he found her steely nerves to be incredibly attractive. And he did not want to look out the view panel.

"Stop staring at me, Ron!" Kim snapped. "It's making me nervous."

"Sorry, KP. Just couldn't keep my eyes off my bon-diggity girlfriend."

"There'll be time for that later, Captain Romance."

The confidence with which Kim uttered those words helped Ron settle down. Going into the debris field, Kim had been ever so slightly unsure of herself, as if the Kim he'd met on boarding _Enterprise_ had returned. But now, once she was faced with an odds-defying sitch, she was rock-solid calm. Ron had no doubt that Kim believed she'd get them to safety, and if she had no doubts then he'd have none either.

Despite Kim's admonition, Ron peeked over and looked at Kim. He was surprised by the expression on her face. She was wearing an impish, almost evil, grin.

"Looks like we're going to try your holofilm move after all, Ron!" she said.

"Wha–" Ron began to ask before she pulled the shuttle into a sudden and steep curving ascent; the interceptors followed. Tracking all of the debris carefully, she suddenly shifted course and thrust her ship into reverse. Ron was thrown to the deck from his seat.

Kim watched with satisfaction as one of the interceptors hurtled into a small asteroid; Ron climbed back into his seat just in time to see the fireball vanish into the vacuum of space. "Booyah!" he cried out. "KP has come to play!"

Kim ignored Ron's good-natured show of support as the other interceptor continued the chase. She wasn't sure what she'd do next. Kim knew she couldn't count on the maneuver she'd just executed working a second time, knowing the drone would be on guard for that. She continued to snake her way at high speed through the debris field, all the while orienting the shuttle to the upper end of the star system's axial plane.

Kim took a quick look at the readouts, then made her decision. It would be risky, but they should still have sufficient fuel to make it to the rendezvous point with _Enterprise_.

"Ron, do you see the readouts and control for the fuel plasma?"

He looked around, then said, "Yeah, KP."

"Okay, at my mark, I want you to press the button marked 'vent.'"

"Uh, KP, are you …"

"Ron, trust me!"

"Okay …"

Kim navigated her way through some more debris, then broke out of the field and pushed the shuttle to maximum impulse speed.

"Now, Ron!" she ordered.

Ron did as he was told; a plume of plasma trailed the shuttle, momentarily interfering with the sensors of the drone.

"Stop, now!" Kim commanded. Ron complied. Then she jumped to warp.

Kim and Ron had effected their escape from Ras T'klar.

V.

"So her name is Shego. What else did you learn about her?" Kim asked, as she finally tended to Ron's wound.

"She traded the thingamabob she stole for some sort of trigger."

Kim's eyes opened wide. "A trigger? Ron, this is very important. Do you remember what kind?" Kim immediately began envisioning all sorts of nightmare scenarios involving mutagenic and sub-space explosives.

Ron screwed up his face and looked at the overhead of the shuttle. "Lemme think, Kim. I knew it before but then I got kinda distracted … Vertical. Virtual …"

"Verteron?" Kim asked, hoping Ron would tell her to try again.

"Yeah!" Ron answered brightly. "A verteron array trigger!"

"Snap," Kim swore, turning away from Ron and back to the console.

Ron was worried. "Kim, did I say something wrong?"

"Give me a moment, Ron. I have to get an encrypted message to _Enterprise_ as soon as possible."

"Encrypted message. Why?" he asked, not always swift in putting two and two together. "Oh, I see. Whatever I just told you. How come? Oh wait, forget that. You probably couldn't tell me anyway. Top secret and all and you'd have to kill me, right?" Ron didn't like that possibility.

Kim smiled as she began the coding sequence for her transmission, then turned back to her boyfriend and his unique-in-the-universe way of looking at things. "Melodramatic much, Ron?" she asked lightheartedly. "No, I won't have to kill you. I just don't want the bad guys to find out what we know."

"And what's that?"

Kim turned serious again. "This assumes someone has all the other appropriate technology, which is so highly unlikely. But in a worst-case scenario, a verteron array trigger could be used to create an artificial wormhole."

"And let's just say I didn't know why that would be bad?"

"Ron, imagine a giant portal suddenly opening up next to Earth. And then imagine a fleet of Romulan Warbirds emerging unannounced."

"Oh, geez," Ron said.

"Pretty much," Kim said as she sent her message.

VI.

"Incoming secure transmission for you, Captain."

"I'll take it in my ready room; Number One, you have the bridge."

Jean-Luc Picard got up from his command chair and retreated to his private office. He settled in behind his desk, turned on the monitor, entered his security codes, and waited for the link to be established.

The green-eyed, auburn-haired image of Ensign Possible appeared, much to Picard's surprise. _This had better be good_, he thought. "Captain, Ron discovered the identity of the perpetrator and what she was up to on Ras T'kar. Her name is Shego and …" Kim went on to describe the woman. Picard was intrigued by the plasma bolts, but didn't feel this warranted an encrypted security transmission.

"Sir," Kim continued, "Shego has gained access to a verteron array trigger. We don't know what she intends to do with it, but given …"

Picard swore to himself as he listened to the young officer. He knew what the worst-case scenario was.

"Very good, Ensign. Thank you for the update. I look forward to a full report from you and Mr. Stoppable upon your return. Picard out."

The captain looked at the now darkened screen, then spoke to the unit. "Get me Admiral Nechayev …"

VII.

Kim put the shuttle on auto-pilot then looked over at her companion. "I'm very proud of you, Ron. You know, you really are quite brave and resourceful," Kim cooed.

"What are you talking about, KP? The only brave one here is you. You were badical, flying the shuttle and beating Shego," he replied, faking punches and mimicking flying patterns with his hands.

Kim looked into Ron's eyes and smiled. "Ron, listen to me, okay? You're a civilian with no training. Yet you volunteered to go on an important mission to get information Starfleet needed for an investigation, not worrying about whether you'd get hurt. And when I needed you to keep cool a little while ago, you did. That's pretty brave to me."

"You really think so?" he asked, still sounding dubious.

"Yes, I do. Now stop doubting me. That's an order," she said, wearing a seductive smile.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his goofy grin reappearing.

Kim got up from her seat and sat down on Ron's lap. "If memory serves, this worked pretty well for us on the flight out from _Enterprise_. I think we should try it again. And that's an order, too!" She then leaned in and brushed her lips against his.

Ron murmured, "Whatever you say, ma'am."

VIII.

Picard could feel the coolness across the wastes of interstellar space. He and Alynna Nechayev had a tense relationship; the woman had not fully trusted him since his assimilation by the Borg. He hated himself for partially sympathizing with her caution. Still, he knew he was one of the best captains in the fleet, otherwise he would not be in command of the Federation flagship. He was now trying not to bristle.

"Admiral, I really do not think that is necessary," Picard protested.

"Captain, I know you have great confidence in your officers. But she is just an ensign, one year out of the Academy. I believe she will benefit from some guidance from a more experienced investigator," Nechayev countered.

"Admiral, with all due respect, none of those supposedly more experienced investigators were able to learn what Ensign Possible has."

"True, Captain. And she is to be commended for her initiative," Nechayev acknowledged. "However, the potential threat to the security of the Federation, however remote, is too great. I have made my decision."

"Understood, Admiral. Picard out."

IX.

"Mmmm. Ron, you are an incredible kisser," Kim purred.

"You're not bad yourself, KP," Ron replied.

"I just can't believe I missed out on this all these years."

"Yeah, well, I suspect I've gotten better with age, so you probably made the right decision in not being interested until now."

"Oh?" she asked, arching her eyebrow. "And do I want to know how you got better with age?"

"Eep."

Kim laughed. "Don't worry, Ron. It's so not the drama. But I do hope we can make up for lost time …" she said playfully before leaning in to give him another kiss. They went on that way for a few minutes before the computer disturbed them.

"Warning: Malfunction in starboard nacelle plasma controller."

Kim broke off the kiss and returned to her console. She swore under her breath.

"What's going on, KP?"

"We've got a problem, Ron. I think our T'klarian friends did more damage then we realized. We're going to have to find a place to land."

X.

"Mr. Data?" Captain Picard asked.

"The fourth moon of the third planet is an M-class body and appears to be uninhabited. Ensign Possible and Ron should be able to land there."

"Very well, Mr. Data," Picard said. The captain then turned his gaze back to the view-screen and the image of the young security officer and her friend. "Congratulations, Ensign. It appears that you and Mr. Stoppable will be the first Federation citizens to set foot on this new world. We will rendezvous with you in eight and a half hours."

"Eight hours thirty-seven minutes, traveling at warp six point five …"

"Thank you, Mr. Data," the captain said, cutting off his second officer. "Good luck, Ensign."

"Thank you, sir," Kim replied.

"And Ensign?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Good work. Both of you."

Kim smiled and Ron beamed with pride. "Thank you, sir. See you in the morning. Possible out."

"_Enterprise_ out," Picard replied, watching the starscape return to the screen.

XI.

"So, if we're the first ones there, do we get to name the place?" Ron asked as Kim piloted the stricken shuttle towards the moon.

"Probably not. I'm sure Starfleet has some directorate filled with people whose job is to name newly discovered planets and things," Kim said.

Ron slumped and frowned.

"What?" Kim asked.

"Nothing," Ron answered sheepishly.

Kim wasted no time turning the puppy dog pout on him.

"Aw, man, not the pout!" Ron whined. "Well, don't laugh, but if I got to name it, well, I'd name it after you …"

"Ron, that's so ferociously sweet," Kim purred. "You are just so … romantic. I never would have guessed it."

"That's because you were too busy with all the other hotties."

"Well …" she said, sounding apologetic.

"Not to mention I was so goofy that neither you nor any other woman ever could have guessed it!" he added before making a silly face, much to Kim's amusement.

"Well, I can't argue with you there, Romeo!" she responded brightly. "Look!" she exclaimed. Dead ahead of them was the moon. They could see the planetoid's features: oceans, clouds, a few small continents. "Ron, it's beautiful," Kim said, a note of wonder in her voice. This was why she was out here.

"Yeah, just like you," Ron said.

Kim looked at him and rolled her eyes. "Okay, now you're laying it on a bit thick, Rondo."

Ron shrugged. "You want me to stop?"

"Nuh uh," she said. "In fact, Rule One on Kimworld …"

Ron looked surprised.

"… well you said you'd name it after me," she noted haughtily, prompting a smile in response. "… Is that the BF never stops telling his GF how he feels about her."

"Aauugh! We're going to the Planet of the Feelings!" Ron moaned in mock horror. "Help me!"

"Oh, I'll help you all right," Kim said with a leer.

XII.

Kim landed the shuttle and performed an environmental check. They couldn't have done better in choosing a place to seek refuge. The air was perfect, the gravity was similar to Earth standard, the temperature was a comfortable 65 degrees.

Kim's only complaint was the shuttle. It was now slowly bleeding radiation; they would have to abandon the craft. She and Ron removed the essential equipment: the first aid kit, blankets, flares, tricorders, the force field barrier stanchions, phasers, rations, the picnic basket Ron had brought along, and his bat'leth.

"This will be just like our camping trips on Mars back in the old days!"

"Do you hide from the ghosts now or later?" Kim asked, a devilish gleam in her eye.

"You laugh, Kim," Ron replied. "But everybody knows that ancient Martian spirits haunt the mountains."

Kim rolled her eyes.

"Besides, I'd like to be scared," Ron said, much to her surprise. "Then I can hold onto you!"

Kim laughed. "I think you can do that without the fear factor, Ron. But let's get camp set up first and maybe have some dinner."

"Sounds like a plan, KP."

They first established a perimeter using the stanchions. The force field would keep out any unwanted nocturnal intruders. They then gathered some rocks that could be heated with phaser fire, then laid out their blankets. Ron found some food for the two of them.

"Well, lookee here! Hot dogs. And marshmallows!"

"Spankin'!" Kim said.

"I still can't believe you eat them together," Ron gibed a little later as Kim enjoyed her dinner.

"You, Ron Stoppable, long ago forfeited any right to comment on any other sentient being's eating habits."

"You are so harsh, KP."

Kim snorted. "So not, Mister Let's-stuff-an-entire-pizza-into-my-face!"

"Hey, I was a growing boy. And the Rondo was a busy man, always on the go."

Kim pulled a face. "Try again, Rondo."

He responded with a belch, and she began laughing.

"So tell me about your new toy," Kim demanded, pointing to the bat'leth. "With some polish, I bet it will look spankin'," she said.

Ron told her about the shop, the Tellarite, and the Klingon.

"That is so whack, Ron. Or should I just start calling you Chosen One?"

"Hey, you gotta admit, Kim, it is a cool story," Ron said. "I can't wait to tell Worf!"

After they ate, they lay down beside one another and took in the night sky, which was clear and filled with stars. Kim began to snuggle with Ron.

"Feeling friendly, KP?" Ron asked hopefully.

"I might be," she said with a sly smile. "Though I have to admit I'm feeling a bit of a chill."

"Really? Huh," Ron said; he was very comfortable. "You want me to warm up the rocks again?"

"Please and thank you," Kim said, hugging herself.

Ron got up, took the phaser and pressed the trigger; a beam of light lanced out and struck the small cairn, which began glowing red. "There ya go, KP."

"Thanks, Ron. Sit by me?" she asked.

He sat by her and put his arm around her. A few minutes later, Kim's teeth began to chatter.

"KP, what's wrong?"

"I don't know Ron, but it's so cold," she said, shivering.

Ron didn't like this. He still thought the temperature was quiet pleasant.

"Ron, could you get the first aid kit?" Kim asked. She took the bag from him, opened it, and found the medical tricorder, which she ran over herself. She shook her head. "It says I'm okay … I must just have picked up a bug. Give me that blanket, please and thank you."

Pretty soon, Kim was huddled next to the fire, wrapped in all of the blankets. Ron watched nervously as Kim shivered even more.

"Hold me closer, Ron," she said, her teeth chattering. "So cold …"

It had been no more than two hours since Kim had experienced her first symptoms; she was now deathly white and sweating profusely. Ron had tried to raise _Enterprise_ a number of times without success. Finally, he got through.

"Captain, it's Ron. Kim's sick."

"We'll be there in about six hours, Ron."

"Captain, I don't think I'm making myself clear," he said, fear rising in his voice. "She's _really_ sick. And the tricorder thingie doesn't know what she's got. You gotta get here. As soon as you can. I, I'm really worried about her …"

"Understood, Ron," Picard replied.

"Mr. Data, traveling at maximum warp, how fast can we arrive at their position?"

"We would be able to arrive in approximately two hours and thirty-five minutes," the second officer replied.

"Thank you," Picard said to him. Then the captain directed his attention to the screen. "You heard Mr. Data, Ron. We'll be there as soon as possible."

"Thanks, Captain."

"Ron, you need to be strong now. Kim needs you to stay focused, so you can take care of her."

"I will, sir," Ron answered with determination, as he collected himself. "Stoppable out."

Ron looked down at Kim, wondering what he could do for her. He'd already drained one of the phasers into the rock.

"Ron, why aren't you freezing?" she said. "You're not wearing a jacket! You're going to get sick! You know how your mother doesn't like you running around without a coat in the winter! You are going to be so busted!"

Ron could tell that Kim wasn't fully lucid. He sat by her and wiped her brow. "Heh heh, you know me, KP. Tough guy. Gotta prove to you how macho I am."

"Macho Ron," Kim giggled. "I like that."

Ron held Kim close and closed his eyes. They sat that way for a few moments. Then the baying and howling began. Ron wasn't going to need imaginary ghosts to keep him up that night.

XIII.

_Enterprise_ entered the star system.

"Status report, Mr. Data."

"We will arrive at the moon in approximately twenty-seven minutes." Data scanned his operations console. "Sir, I am detecting extremely high levels of ionization in the atmosphere. We will be unable to beam out Ensign Possible and Ron. Also, I am detecting multiple life forms in their immediate vicinity; they appear to be converging on their location."

"_Merde_," Picard muttered before turning to his First Officer. "Take a shuttle, Number One."

Riker slapped his comm badge as he got. "Dr. Crusher, meet me in the Shuttle Bay. We have a medical emergency on the surface."

"I'm on my way, Commander," she replied.

"Mr. Worf, you're with me," Riker added as he approached the turbolift.

Within four minutes Will Riker was piloting the shuttle towards the planet, anxious to arrive and extract Kim and Ron. He had a very bad feeling about the situation.

XIV.

Ron was grateful for the force field as he watched the predators circle the camp site. They were larger than Earth wolves, with menacing paws, ugly snouts and fearsome yellow eyes. Yellow eyes which were looking at Ron and Kim as if they were dinner. He held the phaser at the ready, prepared to fire if somehow one of the creatures broke through. He was becoming increasingly nervous as the creatures tested the defenses, willingly absorbing the shock as they flung themselves at the barrier. Ron's only consolation at the moment was that Kim seemed to be unconscious and thus unaware of their predicament.

The circling and probing went on for what seemed hours. Finally, a group of the creatures launched themselves at one of the stanchions. Their howls tore through the night sky as they were flung back; some of their fellow pack mates followed suit. Ron did not like the way the barrier flickered. The animals repeated the assault two more times. On their fourth attempt, the force field winked out.

Ron swore. And then he began firing the phaser.

He watched the creatures fall. Their numbers were significantly reduced, but still they came. Ron had already figured out that the animals were smart enough to learn and adjust their behavior. He didn't know how many there were lurking in the woods. He wished _Enterprise_ would arrive. And soon.

As Ron fired to take out one of the creatures another one launched itself at him; he barely saw it in time. He pulled back and fell back on Kim, but the phaser was knocked from his hand.

Ron was sweating profusely, filled with fear, unsure of what to do. He and Kim were going to die if he couldn't get to the phaser. But if he went to the weapon, Kim would lie exposed to the predators. He wished he could will the phaser to him. He knew he couldn't; the most he could do was buy Kim a few extra moments, perhaps enough time for _Enterprise_ to arrive. There was no question in Ron's mind that he would sacrifice himself for her if he needed to.

Ron saw the bat'leth, lying a few meters from him and wished he had it in his hands. Then, much to his complete surprise, the weapon flew from the ground and into his grip. He didn't have time to be shocked, though, as the snarling creatures began to advance on them.

He'd barely had any training with the blade, but what instruction he did have was better than nothing. He dropped into the defensive crouch Worf had taught him.

"You want Kim, you gotta come through me!" Ron yelled defiantly.

One of the creatures pounced at Ron; he swung the blade and slashed the animal, which shrieked in pain. Ron had drawn first blood. Another came at him, and he made violent contact with it, too. This went on for some minutes and Ron began to feel more confident in his use of the bat'leth. But he was also beginning to tire; adrenaline could only carry him so far.

Ron looked around. Much to his surprise there were only two of the creatures left. Unfortunately for him, these had learned from watching their fellow pack members.

The two animals lunged at Ron. One of them knocked him down, clawing at his leg. Ron, screaming in pain, fell back onto Kim to shield her. He managed to swing the blade and strike the side of the beast, which fell to the side. Just as that happened, the other one pounced.

Ron thrust the blade upwards, towards the creature's underbelly.

Simultaneously, the giant clawed paw came down towards Ron's face.

And then Ron Stoppable howled as he experienced a pain he never even imagined was possible.

_

* * *

TBC …_


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks to captainkodak1, JMAN2.0, Ultimate Naco Topping, JPMod, Parereu, Zaratan, CajunBear73, daywalkr82, campy, vanillalillies, mattb3671, surforst, drakwolfstoppable, whitem, Emerald Dark Knight, calamite, Ezbok58a, Skyagent, Classic Cowboy, kemiztri, Theta-Alpha-One, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Markv1.0, Darkcloud1, Commander Argus, TAZER ZERO, conan98002, Louis Mielke, MichaelCross, Wanderer3, momike, strength-91-possibility-none, Sariah Sariah, Taechunsa, Ace Ian Combat, TexasDad, Cabriel, jasminevr, happyendingsmaybe, Visigoth29527, IncrediRader8, teddybear-514, and nmorgendorffer for reviewing.

Thanks to everyone else for reading.

A special thank you, as always, to campy for his invaluable beta and proofing work; he seems to have had his fill of targ, so I've dispatched him some Saurian brandy.

Remember: write a review, get a personal response beamed directly to your email box!

_KP_ belongs to Disney, _TNG_ to Paramount.

* * *

I. 

Shego piloted the small green and black spacecraft towards Drakken's World, the home to her employer's lair. The 24th century offered plenty of options to people who wanted to rule their own planet, as long as they weren't choosy. Drew Lipsky was able to find a totally uninhabitable D-class world where he was able to construct a bio-dome, and _voila_, declare himself ruler. He had bigger ambitions for the future, starting with finding a planet with some actual inhabitants to rule, but knew he had to start somewhere. One had to walk before one ran, after all.

Shego found her current working arrangements with Drakken quite satisfactory. She had long felt he had absolutely no chance of realizing his whack plans for galactic conquest; he was simply too incompetent to succeed. But he paid her well and gave her the tools which enabled her to pursue her own business interests. And, for the first time, she began to wonder whether Drakken had actually invented something that might help him achieve his goals (that said invention didn't involve cloning or mind control was remarkable enough).

Lipsky hadn't told her what he was up to, but Shego was smart, very smart, and had already deduced what he was attempting, though she wondered how he planned to generate the truly awesome amounts of energy necessary to open and maintain a stable wormhole. What he planned to fly through it was also something that puzzled her. They had two spaceships between the two of them and neither craft would pose much threat to any self-respecting planetary defense system.

Shego, however, did recognize that the Romulans, Cardassians, rogue Klingons, as well as Orionisi pirates, would have lots of ships to fly through an artificial wormhole – and they'd all pay a fortune for such a device, though they might just as easily kill for it, too. Shego wondered whether Drakken had given any thought to how he might implement his plan. She smiled sardonically, realizing that while her boss may have for once figured out how to invent a real doomsday weapon, he really had no idea of how to make use of it.

Shego contemplated the other conundrum before her: Kim Possible and her dopey companion. Bunt had been dealt with easily enough; she'd returned to his warehouse, confirmed that he was still alive and made it clear to him that he was to blame the incident on the young Starfleet officer. With any luck, the T'klarians would have already apprehended Possible or, at the least, begun making inquiries of Starfleet. Playing it safe, Shego had made sure to tip off the authorities to the presence of a possibly rogue Starfleet officer and thoughtfully provided them with an image of Kim Possible. But Shego hadn't survived and prospered by not considering every variable. She knew she had to account for all possibilities. She had been uncharacteristically careless once, which was why she now had a Starfleet security officer looking for her.

Shego knew she'd have to deal with Kim Possible. She could find the young officer and her friend and kill them, but that wasn't her style. She'd just as soon put them on an Orion trading block. A pretty young human woman and a chef? They'd bring a nice price in cold, hard latinum. And Shego liked latinum. A lot. It had already paid for that condo on Risa, after all …

II.

Beverly Crusher looked up as Jean-Luc Picard walked into her office.

"Report, Doctor?" the captain asked in his usual clipped manner.

"I've been able to map the virus and develop a treatment. Ensign Possible will make a full recovery," she replied.

"How long?"

"Within hours, actually. I'm just about ready to begin the course of therapy. She's a very lucky young woman, Jean-Luc. Her respiratory system was on the verge of shutting down. If Ron hadn't contacted us when he did, we wouldn't have arrived in time to save her. I was lucky to get her into stasis before any irreversible damage had occurred."

"And what of Mr. Stoppable?" This time the captain was unable to mask the note of concern in his voice.

"Well, the virus is not an issue; he was just beginning to show signs of it when they were rescued and we've been able to treat it. That, of course, isn't the problem," Beverly said with a sigh. "Ron's left thigh was mauled; there was extensive tissue and muscle, though no neurological, damage. He'll have full use of his leg but he'll carry some nasty scars there. Unfortunately, Jean-Luc, those won't be the only scars he'll carry. The lacerations to the left side of his face were severe, easily the worst I've seen in my medical career. There's only so much we can do. He has a rare immunological disorder which precludes a face transplant, implants and cloning. If he chooses, he can opt for full reconstructive surgery, but that will be a long and painful process, and even then he won't look like he did before the attack. And there's nothing that can be done about the eye. The optic nerves were too badly damaged, so we couldn't even use a mechanical implant. And that disorder I mentioned precludes something like Geordi's visor."

"May I see him?"

"Yes, if you'd like, though he's asleep now and I'm not ready to wake him."

"That's all right; I'd still like to go in."

Beverly rose from her chair and led Picard into the recovery area, where Ron lay in a biobed. From his right side, Ron looked no different than he had before he and Kim had departed _Enterprise_. The left side of Ron's face, however, looked like it belonged to a different person. Even with the bandage wrapped around the place where Ron's eye had been, Picard could see the three long, livid gashes running from Ron's scalp down across his sunken cheek, almost to his mouth.

Picard was joined by Beverly. They both stood silently by Ron's side.

"Did you know he was still gripping a bat'leth when they found him?" Picard asked. "Will said he was lying on top of Ensign Possible, shielding her body. He was barely alive. But he was still semi-conscious. And the only thing he wanted to know of Will was whether Kim was safe."

"He's a very brave young man," Beverly observed.

"Yes, he is, Doctor," Picard said, regretting the unflattering thoughts he'd had about Ron when they first met. "I just wish we never had the opportunity to learn how brave he truly is."

III.

Beverly Crusher pressed the hypospray against the patient's neck. Kim Possible stirred and her eyes fluttered open.

The young officer looked up, confused to see _Enterprise_'s Chief Medical Officer. "W-what? Where am I?" Kim stammered.

"You're in Sickbay on _Enterprise_, Kim. You were hit by a very aggressive virus, but you'll make a full recovery. You should be up and out of here shortly."

Kim relaxed, remembering how ill she'd felt. She'd had awful nightmares. Suddenly she tensed up. "Ron. Where is he? How is he?"

"He's here, Kim, but you need to know …"

A few minutes later, Beverly Crusher had finished telling Kim about what Will and Worf had found on the moon's surface and what they'd pieced together of events. Kim lay in the bed, stunned. _Oh my God, what have I done? This is my fault, Ron. This is so my fault, _Kim thought._ I should never have let you come …_

IV.

Guinan put down the glasses she was cleaning, turned to her assistant and said, "Excuse me. There's something I need to do. I'll be back in a little while." The enigmatic bartender then turned and left Ten Forward.

V.

"Guinan?" Beverly Crusher inquired as the El-Aurian entered her office.

"Hello, Doctor. I'd like to talk to Kim for a few minutes."

"I don't know, Guinan. She just woke up and she's …"

"… shocked by the news about Stoppable?"

"Word gets around fast."

Guinan smiled cryptically. "Yes, it does. Possible needs to talk to someone, Doctor, and that person isn't Counselor Troi. She does, however, have a history of, as she'd put it, 'spilling' to me."

The doctor thought about the matter for a moment, then nodded. "Okay …"

"And where's Stoppable?"

"Recovery, but …"

"He's my friend," she said with resolve; Beverly Crusher knew what that meant. She found herself nodding again.

Guinan first went in to see Ron, who was still sedated. "Quiet and still. This is not your normal state, Stoppable. Nor is that blank expression. We'll have to change that." Gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "When you get up, we've got to have a couple of drinks. I've got some Romulan Ale that I think you'll like." She then left Recovery and went into the general ward, where she found Kim.

"Guinan?" Kim said in surprise; she hadn't expected a visitor so soon.

"How are you doing?" the bartender asked.

"Fine, I guess, Doctor Crusher said she was able to cure the …" Kim said, trying to sound as if nothing big had happened.

"No, Kim. How are you _doing_?" Guinan asked, emphasizing the last word of her question.

Kim looked at Guinan; her eyes reflected her anguish. "Terrible."

"You feel responsible," Guinan stated.

"Well, duh," Kim snapped.

"You were supposed to protect him."

"Well, duh again. Supposedly, I'm a highly trained Starfleet security officer. Ron's a chef."

"Mmm hmmm. You've had to protect him, help him out before, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Why'd you let him go with you in the first place?"

"He said he knew Ferengi …"

"No, the first time you two went on a rescue mission. Why'd you let him go?"

Kim sighed. "I so wanted to join the Martian Red Cross Mountain Rescue Corps. But since I was under eighteen, they said I needed a partner. When I showed up for school the next day I was tweaked; Ron wanted to know why and I told him. He immediately volunteered, actually insisted on being my partner even though I knew he was terrified of heights. But I so wanted to do it, so I agreed. It was really sweet of him."

"Heart-warming. Who'd have guessed he was such a romantic even when he was a teenager?"

"Not me. Though I wish I had," Kim replied softly.

She smiled at Kim. "So, you always protected him? He was always a burden, in the way?"

"He was never a 'burden.' But, yeah, he did get in the way. Yet when it really counted, Ron was always there."

"Like Olympus Mons?"

"Yes, Olympus Mons. How did you know?" Kim asked; Guinan just looked at Kim serenely. "Ron was a hero that day," Kim said.

"Funny. No mention of that in the newsnet stories," Guinan observed.

"No," Kim acknowledged, looking away, filled with shame; she'd enjoyed being the center of attention and Ron had seemed willing enough to let her be the public face of the rescue effort. She couldn't have done what she'd done if he hadn't been there; in retrospect, she wasn't even sure she would have survived had he not been present. She wondered now how much it might have meant to him if she'd shared the spotlight. She vowed that in the future, Ron would get his share of the credit, beginning with the action on Ras T'klar.

Guinan sensed what she was thinking. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know that I can even look at him," Kim said with a pained voice.

"Why? The injury? Because he's not a hottie?" a mildly surprised Guinan asked, goading Kim.

"No!" Kim protested indignantly; the look on her face satisfied Guinan that Kim was sincere. "I just feel horrible about what happened. It's so my fault."

"He volunteered to go."

"And I should have said no. But I wanted to find Shego."

"Shego," Guinan said knowingly. "Interesting."

"You know Shego?" Kim asked, surprised.

"I know of her. But we can talk about her later. Let's focus on important things right now. So, you wanted to find Shego and you let that override your judgment. You weren't going to bring Ron along, but then did. Is that it?"

"Well, not exactly. I said no. But he insisted on coming, said he had more experience dealing with Ferengi, that he'd backed me up before on Mars."

"So he knew he was taking a risk."

Kim glared at Guinan. "Don't go there. I am so not in the mood to hear you say Ron asked for this."

"I wasn't going to say that, Kim. You really shouldn't jump to conclusions. What I was going to say was that Ron was willing to take a risk for you, just like he did on Olympus Mons." Guinan looked at Kim intently. "He loves you, Kim. And I'm not talking about teen love or a crush, either."

"I know."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes," she said softly.

"Then honor that. Honor what Ron did for you. What he needs right now is for you to be there for him. Don't let your feelings of guilt get between the two of you. He's going to have a tough road to travel from here; his life will never be the same."

"He won't be traveling it alone, Guinan. I'm going to be there with him, no matter what," Kim stated with determination.

Guinan grinned. "Atta girl. That's the Possible I know." The El-Aurian turned to leave. Then, at the door, she looked back at Kim. "We'll talk about Shego later."

VI.

Beverly agreed that it would be a good idea for Kim to see Ron before he was awakened. Kim now stood at the entrance to the recovery bay, able to see his good side. She took a deep breath and entered the room.

Kim approached him slowly, as if worried she would startle him out of his drug-induced sleep. For a few moments, she was able to deny what she had been told had actually happened. But then she came around the bed, and there was no hiding from what happened. She gasped and found herself raising her hands to cover her mouth. Part of her wanted to run, driven by horror and guilt, another part of her wanted to retch, but she knew she had to confront this.

She stood by Ron's side, looking down at his ravaged features, no longer hidden by bandages. He was in much better shape than when he'd been brought aboard _Enterprise_, though Kim didn't know that. The three livid gashes across the left side of his face were startling. But even more so was the hollow place where an eye had once been. Kim had insisted on seeing him without dressings or cover; she knew she would see him like that in the future and she wanted to be prepared.

Ron lay motionless and without sound, which Kim found to be most strange. Over the years they had slept in the same room many times, whether for a childhood sleepover, a family trip, a college visit, or most recently, the transformation of their relationship. Ron was a restless sleeper, a snorer who often talked in his sleep, mumbling in fear about monkeys or happiness about Tex-Mex. Kim couldn't help but smile as she recalled how just the other night he'd been mumbling about her in very flattering, if naughty, terms.

Tentatively, she reached up and touched his disfigured face. She thought of how much joy it had reflected over the years. The innocent delight when they first met and she asked him if he'd be her friend. The goofy pleasure when he became the high school mascot. The satisfied grin when he was hired by Mistral. The proud smile in her Academy graduation picture. And the sheer pleasure the other night, when they finally became lovers.

She stood quietly, slowly succumbing to the unfairness of it all. The tears began slowly, then built in intensity, until Kim found herself convulsed with sobbing; it was such an unusual experience for her to be crying. She almost never cried, and if she'd taken the time to reflect on it, she'd have realized that the times she did usually involved Ron.

Beverly heard the weeping from her office and after it had gone on for a long while, became concerned and decided to investigate. But when she came to the entrance to the recovery area, the sobbing had become muffled. And she saw that Kim was leaning over, tenderly kissing Ron's wound.

She didn't hear Kim whisper "I love you so much, Ron."

Kim wouldn't deny feeling responsible for what had happened. If it had not been for her, Ron would not be in Sickbay. But she also knew that Guinan was right. She would honor what Ron did and respect his decision to help her. He wasn't a child who couldn't take a risk; he was a grown man who rolled the dice on her behalf, acting out of friendship and love. He had offered her a tremendous gift and she would treasure it and hope she would prove worthy of it.

VII.

Beverly and Deanna had conferred. Though they knew there was no way they could predict how Ron would react once he was revived, they were sure that Kim needed to be there. Beverly had sent her back to her quarters with instructions to freshen up. "He needs to see you looking healthy and beautiful. If he sees you're well, that should help ease some of his shock."

Kim now stood by Ron's bedside holding his hand as Beverly pressed the hypospray against his neck.

The first thing Ron saw was Kim.

"KP!" he exclaimed in a weak voice. "You're okay!"

"Yes, I am, Ron. Thanks to you," she replied with a tender smile while squeezing his hand.

Once he knew Kim was well, Ron was able to begin focusing on other things. Like the fact that he couldn't see with his left eye. In fact, he felt nothing on the left side of his face. Suddenly and with great force, it all came back to him. The last moments when the wolf-creature attacked flooded his memory. He closed his good eye and groaned. "How bad is it?"

Beverly had decided that forthright honesty would be the best approach. "Your face is scarred and you lost the eye. There was nothing we could do." She then began to explain his options. "I'm sorry, Ron."

"S'kay. Kim's okay. That's all that matters."

Kim squeezed his hand again. _He looks like this because of me. I am not going to cry again. I am so not going to cry again._

"You got a mirror, Doc?"

"Are you sure, Ron?" Kim asked nervously.

"Yeah, I'm sure, KP," he answered.

Beverly retrieved a mirror and held it up for Ron. He squeezed Kim's hand so tight that she gasped; he immediately relaxed his grip. After a moment, he swore under his breath.

Kim turned to Beverly and Deanna. "May I have a moment alone with Ron?"

"Of course," Beverly said, before she and Deanna left the room.

"Ron …"

He looked at his girlfriend. "I'm glad you're safe, Kim. It, it was worth it." Then he turned away from her.

"Ron … please, look at me."

"Why? I'm so friggin' ugly. Not that I had a lot to work with before."

"Are you saying I have bad taste in men?" she said lightly, hoping to boost his spirits.

"Not now, Kim," he snapped.

"I'm sorry," she said, sounding hurt, which caught his attention.

"Hey, didn't mean to take your head off there, KP," a suddenly chastened Ron replied. "No, you don't have bad taste in men – at least since you kissed that drunk in the bathroom. That was really badical," he said wistfully, before falling silent. "Kim, I, I'd understand if you decided you wanted to call things off. You know, my face and all. I can't imagine what it must be like looking at me …"

Kim knew she had just been presented with the greatest challenge of her life. There was no doubt: looking at Ron was difficult. He'd been horribly disfigured. But to turn away from him now would not only be a mockery of what they'd said and done the other night, an insult to their nearly two decades of friendship, a denial of what she felt for him, but a rejection of a dedication and love she had never even imagined possible. She had had time to think about what Ron had done for her down on that moon. So, while looking at Ron might be difficult, it was also the easiest thing in the universe for Kim to do.

She cut off his words with her lips, pressing them against his. Kim lingered, then pulled away. "Let's get something straight, right now, Ron Stoppable. You. Me. Together. You want to break up with me, we'll talk, though you'll have some 'splainin' to do. But if you think I'm going to give up on us because of what happened to you, then you'd better think again, not to mention be ready to apologize; I don't think I was ever _that_ shallow."

"Kim, it's not that, it's just that … Look at me!" he said plaintively.

With large emerald eyes she did just that. She brought her hand to the right side of his face and tenderly brushed his cheek.

"Okay, I'm looking. I still see a beautiful brown eye. Great, if kind of goofy, smile. Those two ears that turn me on …"

"Really?" he asked incredulously.

"… Oh yes," she said with a salacious, if slightly embarrassed, grin. "Mop of blonde hair. Still have three freckles," she said, tracing her fingers lightly across his cheek before she looked around to see they were alone; when she was sure they were, she moved her hand down the blanket, then smiled. "And this all seems to still be in order …" she purred as she felt him react. "You know, Ron, saving a girl's life from ravenous beasts using only a bat'leth? Very, very sexy."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yes. I'm looking forward to properly thanking you," she said in a sultry voice.

"I'm all about you properly thanking me!'" Ron responded, smiling for the first time since being revived.

Kim grinned with affection. "Good." Then she turned serious. "Ron, don't think for a minute that I don't know how serious this sitch is. I know this will be rough for you. But you remember the conversation we had the other night, about how we felt about each other, about the future, our future?"

He nodded.

"You remember those t-shirts you got for us when I was training for the Titan Games?"

"The Team Possible ones?" he replied.

"Yes. And remember what they said on the back? 'We can do anything.'" She paused. "We can, Ron. Together."

Ron lay there looking at his best friend/girlfriend for a while.

"So what I did. It really was … sexy?" he asked tentatively. Ron so wanted to believe Kim wouldn't abandon him, that she could still love him, despite his appearance.

"Oh yes," she said seductively before giving him another kiss. "I think you're very sexy. And you don't even have to use a bat'leth for me to think that."

"Kim," he said with sudden urgency. "The bat'leth. Where is it?"

"Umm, it's in your quarters," she replied, surprised by Ron's seemingly random question. "Mr. Worf brought it back. Why?"

"KP, I know this is gonna sound crazy. You remember the old Klingon I told you about?"

"Yes."

"I think what he told me may be true …"

VIII.

And it was.

The old Klingon Ron had met was a _Dahar_ master named Kor. Four years in the future, with the assistance of Worf and Jadzia Dax, he would set out on a quest to find the legendary Sword of Kahless. Their search took them to the Gamma Quadrant, where they found the lost weapon. But fearing the potentially explosive impact its discovery might have on Klingon society, the trio chose to leave the Sword behind.

Violence engulfed the Empire nonetheless as Gowron dissolved the Khitomer Accords, ending the alliance with the Federation. Then, with the threat from the Dominion, the Klingons once again sided with the Federation. Yet divisions in the highest circles of the Empire festered until Gowron was killed and Martok took his place as Chancellor. A semblance of order returned to Klingon affairs.

Yet all was not well within the Empire. Toral, the surviving member of the Duras family, along with his allies, continued to lurk, plotting the seizure of power. By 2383, Toral, who had spent years searching for the Sword, found it, and, ready to strike, plunged the Empire into yet another civil war, leading to the deaths of millions.

Kor watched as events unfolded, feeling helpless to affect events, wishing that he and his compatriots had never abandoned the Sword all those years before; had they brought it back to the Alpha Quadrant, Toral would not have found it and staked his claim to leadership of the High Council. The old master locked himself in his cell and hoped to find solace in the study of obscure ancient texts.

It was during those studies that he learned of the possibility of the Chosen One being an Offworlder, a human from the House of S'Topabill, who was destined to claim the Sword back in 2368. When Kor made this discovery he concluded that he needed to make sure the sword found its way into that human's hands. And to make that happen he would have to travel back through time.

Kor dedicated the next five years to determining the exact identity of the potential Chosen One. He learned that the human had an unusually rare name, which would aid in determining his location. Kor was frustrated when he learned that his quarry, along with a woman who appeared to be his mate, had died on an unnamed moon in Federation space in 2368 after a visit to Ras T'klar. That wouldn't do; Kor resolved to change that.

Knowing who needed to receive the Sword and by what date, Kor spent another three years determining the best way to travel back into the past. Once that was accomplished, thanks to the fortuitous discovery of the _Tempus Targia_, he returned to the Gamma Quadrant in 2372, retrieved the Sword a day after he and his companions had set it free in space, then went to the Ras T'klar of 2368 and ensured that the Sword found its way into the hands of the human.

Kor did not consult Ron Stoppable; he didn't ask the human if he wanted to play a role in Klingon affairs. Kor did not care. The new timeline had to better than the old. And to ensure it was not changed back, he destroyed the Time Targ, stranding himself in the past. It was a small price to pay for the Empire.

IX.

Shego was now sure that Drakken had figured out a way to power his wormhole generator; he had been surprisingly smug when she returned, even after she told him of her little play date with Kim Possible. So far, he hadn't told her what the solution to the power problem was, though Shego knew he would since the odds of his inventing from scratch were very low when he could just have Shego steal it for him; it was just a matter of time before he talked.

She was sitting at her computer console, her feet propped up on the desk, reading a padd, when Drakken came to see her.

"Shego, the time for you to redeem your performance on Ras T'klar has arrived," he declared grandly.

She turned and glowered at him, her hands now aglow. "You want to try rephrasing that, Doc?"

Drew Lipsky looked at his dangerous assistant and decided that discretion would be the better part of valor, at least for the time being. Once he'd succeeded in effecting his scheme, he would be able to fire his lippy sidekick and be free of her insolence or, at the very least, command the respect his genius warranted. He coughed. "Um, the time for us to advance our plans has arrived?"

"Better," she said, turning back to her padd.

"Shego! Pay attention, please. This is very important!"

"Then stop yapping."

Lipsky growled in frustration. "I need to you to acquire something for me."

"Uh huh. Whaddya want? And more important, why do you want it?"

The evil scientist looked at his colleague through narrowed eyes. He knew she was highly intelligent. Once he told her what he wanted, he suspected she would deduce what he was up to anyway. He may as well enjoy gloating and ranting now, rather than deal with recriminations later.

"Okay, Shego. Here's what I want …"

Shego listened. Actually getting what Drakken wanted would be a challenge. But she liked challenges.

X.

Kim had been released from Sickbay; Ron was being kept for overnight observation. Dr. Crusher had been adamant that Kim leave and get some rest. So, Kim decided that if she couldn't be with Ron, she could at least spend some time in what she had come to consider his space. Though he'd only been on board ship for a week, Kim had come to see the VIP Quarters as Ron's room.

She entered the spacious cabin and looked around. Her eyes then rested on the bat'leth. She slowly approached the weapon. Gingerly, she picked it up. The blade was clean, gleaming. Perhaps Worf had polished it. But the handle. All the cracks had been – sealed. _No, they've disappeared. This wood is smooth, like new,_ Kim thought.

Kim sat down, holding the bat'leth, trying to comprehend what Ron had told her: That he had somehow willed it to him, and it had responded to his summons, and thus saved their lives. She shook her head. It was improbable. But improbable wasn't the same as impossible. She was about to press her comm badge to contact Worf, who she hoped would be able to tell her more about the Blade of Kahless, when her badge beeped.

"Picard to Possible."

"Possible here, sir."

"Ensign, would you please join me in my ready room?"

"Yes, sir. I'm on my way."

Kim sighed, carefully laid the weapon down, and headed to the turbolift, wondering what other surprises fate had in store for her.

XI.

Picard looked at the young officer sitting before him. She'd had a very eventful few days. She had uncovered critical leads in a vital case. She had clearly entered a serious romantic relationship with a close friend who subsequently had almost lost his life protecting her. She herself had almost died. And now she had just learned that Starfleet, for all intents and purposes, did not trust her to run the investigation alone.

"I'm sorry, Ensign. I want you to know that I filed a formal protest with Admiral Nechayev. She has at least agreed that you and the investigator from Galactic Justice will be operating as equals."

Kim was seething. This was her case. She ... _no,_ _she and Ron_ … had done the hard work, identified the suspect – and the threat! And now GJ was swanning in because some Starfleet brass hat wanted to cover her backside.

"Ensign, say it. Whatever is on your mind, say it now. Because I cannot afford – nor can you – for you to say to Admiral Nechayev what I suspect you are thinking."

Kim took a deep breath then gave vent to her anger. "This is so ferociously unfair! Where does she get off doing this? We do all the hard work and then GJ, which obviously couldn't crack this case before, comes onto the scene. Ron – Ron! – got the information from Bunt. Admiral Nechayev ought to be coming here to offer him a commission, not saddle us with some jerk from Galactic Justice!"

Picard couldn't help but smile. "I wholeheartedly agree," he said, earning a surprised expression from Kim. "But we do not live in a perfect world, Kim. I will need you to work with the GJ agent, show him every courtesy, offer him all possible assistance."

"Yes, sir," Kim replied professionally.

"If it is any consolation, Ensign, I am very impressed with the work you have done and have submitted a note to your file and to my log to that effect. I have also noted Mr. Stoppable's bravery and service."

"Thank you, sir," Kim answered, this time with a smile, as she got up to leave. "I appreciate that."

Despite Picard's conciliatory and supportive remarks, Kim was ferociously tweaked. She went directly to the holodeck, where she booted up Possible Training Program Four and proceeded to take on black-ops personnel from the Romulan Tal Shiar for the next hour and a half.

XII.

"Ogawa to Possible!"

"Possible here," Kim responded, half asleep.

"You're needed in Sickbay, now! Ron's …"

Kim, now awake, leapt out of her bunk, threw on her uniform, and raced to the turbolift. Moments later she was in Sickbay; Nurse Alyssa Ogawa was waiting to show her in.

"It's Ron. He woke up screaming. He was convinced that you were dead. I told him you were okay, but I thought it would be best if you came …"

"Thanks for alerting me," Kim replied.

Kim went in to Ron. She could see he was bathed in sweat, his face gripped with fear. "Ron, I'm here. I'm safe. It's okay!"

"KP! Oh man, I had the worst nightmare. The wolves attacked and got to you. And, and …" he couldn't say any more. He broke down. Kim stood by his side; as best she could, she cradled his head.

"It'll be okay, Ron. I'm here. I'm safe. You protected me. I'm safe," she said soothingly, stroking his forehead, no longer noticing as her fingers brushed the ridges of his scars. All Kim could focus on was the idea of Ron, her Ron, happy-go-lucky Ron, being gripped by primal fear. _This is wrong. This is sick and wrong_, she thought. _Shego will pay for this_.

Kim, holding her boyfriend, felt a tremendous sense of guilt for what happened to him. But she also believed that the person who was the ultimate cause of what had happened to them was Shego, and Kim was determined to hold her accountable. Had Shego not been stealing Federation technology, Kim and Ron would never have gone to Ras T'klar, and thus would never have found themselves on that God-forsaken moon with its viruses and predators.

Kim was determined to take down Shego. This was no longer a Starfleet or Federation matter; it was personal. Kim Possible had a score to settle.

XIII.

Beverly discharged Ron the next morning. He and Kim both agreed to meet with Deanna later in the day. Before they left Sickbay, Beverly fitted Ron with an eyepatch.

Kim was miffed. The only reason the patch was there was to spare other people discomfort. She had gotten over her own discomfort with surprising speed and now saw the damage as a badge of honor. As far as she was now concerned, people should look at Ron's face and be awed by what he had done. Ron, however, was putting on a brave face and joking about the whole thing and so she decided to be supportive and not give voice to her annoyance with her crewmates.

Ron looked at himself in a mirror, then turned to Beverly. "So, you got a parrot to go with this thing?"

Beverly looked confused.

"Oh, c'mon. Pirates. Don't tell me you don't know about pirates!"

Kim laughed, despite her earlier pique. She remembered how much Ron liked dressing as an old Earth pirate for Halloween (it had been a great improvement over his ballerina outfit).

Beverly smiled. "No, I do know about pirates. But I forgot about the parrot. I'll see what we can do for you!"

"Thanks!" Ron said brightly. He turned to Kim, then said, "You ready to go, matey?"

She laughed. "Anytime you are, you scurvy dog."

As they left Sickbay, Kim hooked her arm through Ron's. She felt a need to protect him, especially when some crew members, taken aback by his injuries, winced or turned away. People in the 24th century, for all their supposedly broad horizons, could be distinctly uncomfortable around the sick and lame, who were unwanted reminders of a darker, more primitive time. Kim couldn't help but notice the look of hurt on Ron's face; each of those reactions from her crewmates was like a slap across the face. By the time they reached his quarters, Ron was no longer able to maintain his cheerful façade. He felt hideous.

Kim wrapped her arms around Ron's neck. "They're jerks."

"Yeah, but they're right. I'm a one-eyed, scarred freak," he said self-pityingly.

Kim wasn't sure what to say. Finally, she made a decision. "You know, Ron. I kind of like the patch."

"What, you like freaks?" he asked acidly.

"No, and stop dissing my boyfriend. You don't want to mess with a girl who knows 16 kinds of kung fu." She gave him a slow, deep kiss.

"You seem to think kissing is the answer to a lot of things, KP," Ron said sourly.

"Maybe," she said impishly, refusing to give into his sullen mood. "Maybe I just like an excuse to kiss you. You know, sometimes girls like the bad boys. And that patch makes you look _very, very_ bad."

Much as Ron wanted to feel bad for himself, he laughed, leered, then, much to Kim's delight, let out a low growl …

XIV.

Even if Ron hadn't woken up in the middle of the night screaming, Kim and Ron both knew that it was a good idea for them to see the ship's counselor since they were both being confronted by so many raw emotions. Knowing the visit was a good idea, however, didn't stop them from fidgeting as they sat on Troi's couch.

Deanna smiled placidly. "It's perfectly understandable to be uncomfortable about being here."

Kim and Ron both looked at Deanna sheepishly.

"People often feel uncomfortable the first time they come to see me," she said reassuringly. "It is as though stepping through that door means your mental health is being questioned. I want you to set that idea aside; it is perfectly normal to want some guidance in dealing with your emotions and feelings. The two of you have been subjected to a great deal of stress over the past few days: the change in your relationship, events on Ras T'klar, and the incident on the moon."

Kim reached for Ron's hand, then self-consciously withdrew it.

"Why did you just do that, Kim?" Deanna asked.

"Wha—" Kim stammered in reply.

"Why did you take your hand away from Ron's?"

"Well, we're here with you and …"

"Kim, Ron. Each of us has his or her own demons to confront. But we don't need to confront them alone. You two have each other to rely upon; that is a strength. Draw on it."

Kim, now more relaxed, responded by reaching for Ron's hand a second time; he squeezed hers in response.

"Ron, what was your first reaction when you learned about your injury?" Deanna asked.

Ron looked at his feet, now ashamed that he'd ever doubted Kim.

"I, I thought I'd lose Kim. How could someone so beautiful want to be with someone as ugly as me?" Kim leaned into Ron, sensing that his fears were reasserting themselves.

"Kim why did you want to enter into a romantic relationship with Ron?"

Kim looked at her boyfriend. "Because he completes me."

Ron looked at Kim wide-eyed. To hear anyone say that would have been stunning. But for Kim, the most accomplished person he knew …

"It took me a while to realize it, Ron, but you've always been right here beside me; I just never knew until you stepped off that transporter platform. It's been true for a long time."

"Wow," Ron whispered. "I don't know what to say, KP."

"You don't need to say anything, Ron," she replied, now holding his hand in both of hers.

Deanna let her two visitors enjoy the moment before speaking again.

"Kim, would I be correct in assuming you feel guilty about what happened to Ron?"

Kim tensed up as she was torn from her reverie. She didn't want a repeat of her conversation with Guinan.

Deanna continued. "That's a perfectly natural reaction. You were the mission commander and you were responsible for the safety of all personnel. You failed."

Ron was furious. "Hey! Don't you go blaming KP for what happened. I'm a big boy. I chose to go and I'd do it again."

Kim was stunned. "She's right, Ron. I did fail. I failed you."

"How, KP? How did you fail? Because you didn't know that we'd meet some crazy lady with glowing hands or land on a moon with weird viruses and whack-job animals that the computer didn't even know existed? Ooooh. Sorry your psychic powers weren't working. Ooops, my bad," Ron added, looking at Deanna – Kim had warned Ron about Troi's empathic abilities. The counselor shook her head, indicating that Ron had nothing to worry about. "Kim, you broke the case open and we got the information we needed, right?"

Kim nodded, still unsure.

"And with that information, Starfleet can be prepared and maybe save a lot of lives. You didn't fail me or anyone else. You were a hero. I think that's pretty cool."

"Ron, that's sweet, but …"

"Don't argue with a man who has a magic sword, KP," he interjected, now wearing his trademark goofy grin.

Deanna wondered about the magic sword remark, but sensed that Ron, while being jovial, was also being truthful. That intrigued her.

"I'll make you a deal, Kim. I'll stop being stupid and accept that you really still do want to be with me if you stop beating yourself up about what happened. And if we have any relapses, we can be patient or call up Counselor Troi here to remind us about our agreement."

"Are you sure you haven't been training to be a counselor, Ron?" Deanna asked with a smile.

"Nah. It's the Kim Factor. She brings out the best in me."

Kim smiled affectionately at Ron.

"I'll buy that," Deanna responded with a straight face. "And I bet there's a Ron Factor that brings out the best in her."

Kim smiled and looked at Ron, then asked, "So what happens next, Counselor?"

"I'd like to meet with the two of you again in a few days, just to check in, if you don't mind. As I said earlier, you have been through quite a lot and processing all of that can be quite demanding."

Kim and Ron exchanged glances, then nodded at Deanna. They got up to leave.

"One last thing," the Betazoid woman said. "The bond the two of you have is very special. Remember to let it help you."

Kim looked at Ron, who once again grinned at her. Smiling, she said to Deanna, "I think we can do that."

XV.

After seeing Deanna, Ron insisted that Kim pursue her investigation before the GJ dork, as he called him, arrived. Kim had been impressed to find that Ron was even angrier about that development than she was. But he had pointed out that if the events on Ras T'klar and the moon were not to be pointless, she needed to own as much of the investigation as possible; she couldn't argue with his reasoning. And she had to admit that she wanted to know what Guinan had to say about Shego.

"Besides, KP," he said. "I think it's time to find out whether what I did with the Sword down there was just a fluke, or something else. And I want to talk to Worf; I bet he knows all sorts of badical stuff about it!"

They agreed that Ron would make her dinner that night; she was to be at his quarters at 1900 hours. Not caring that they were standing in the busy corridor outside Deanna's office, Kim and Ron shared an embrace and a kiss, before heading off in separate directions.

XVI.

Kim sat at the bar in Ten Forward, nursing her Rigelian Mango Smoothie. She was still smarting from the revelation that she'd be sharing responsibility for the case with GJ.

"So how do you know Shego?" she asked Guinan.

"Our paths crossed a number of years ago," the bartender replied. "She's bad news," Guinan added, never actually answering Kim's question.

Kim knew not to press. Guinan would tell her what she wanted to tell her and nothing more.

"First thing you should know, Possible, is that Shego's not Orionisi. She's human."

That surprised Kim.

Guinan smiled at the expression on the young officer's face. "You're not the only one to have that reaction. I heard that she was affected by some comet radiation a number of years ago. It gave her some unusual powers …"

Kim frowned at the memory of the plasma bolts.

"… and coincidentally allows Shego to look like she's from Orion. When she wants to, she can even play the part. Apparently she's found a way to mimic Orionisi pheromones, though seduction isn't her style. She prefers a combination of cunning and violence."

Kim cocked an eyebrow and laughed bitterly. "I can so see the violence part," she said, remembering the blast to Ron's chest and the destruction in the warehouse. "She likes to talk, doesn't she?" Kim added.

"Shego's definitely a lippy one. But she's shrewd, too. If she's talking to you during a fight, it's to distract you. Tell me what she said."

Kim did.

Guinan grimaced. "Well, it sounds like Shego's taken a dislike to you."

"The feeling's mutual. When I get my hands on her …"

Guinan could see the anger on Kim's face.

"Possible, listen very carefully to me. With what's happened to Ron, I can guess how you feel, but you cannot let your personal feelings get in the way and you can not let them control you."

"Why not? I so want to take her down," Kim spat back.

"Because you'll become consumed by the hate. Kim, you may not want GJ on the case, but you're stuck with 'em. Make use of the additional resources. You've done enough heavy lifting already; let someone else help. Sure, do your best to solve the case and bring Shego to justice. But don't forget to live the rest of your life. You want do something for Ron? Don't obsess over Shego; focus on loving him."

Kim sighed. Now that her natural Kimness was reasserting herself, she found the idea of pulling back difficult. She wanted to charge ahead. But she knew Guinan was making sound points.

And she was looking forward to her dinner with Ron later that evening.

After all, being with Ron was a lot more fun than worrying about Shego …

XVII.

A distinguished looking man with a high forehead, hair receding at the temples, slightly manic eyes and an impish grin walked into Mistral. The maitre d' greeted the familiar figure, who, on a somewhat regular basis, came for an early dinner. This gentleman always ordered one dish – lobster risotto with a saffron garnish, which he liked as prepared by the _sous chef_, Ron Stoppable. The patron also seemed to enjoy chatting with the young cook who, ever since the man on his first visit to the restaurant had asked to meet the fellow who had prepared his meal, had always come out to chat for a few moments. The maitre d' knew the diner would be disappointed when he learned that the chef who usually prepared his meal and provided a little conversation was away.

Unexpectedly, when the gentleman was told of Ron's absence, he told the maitre d' not to worry and asked to be seated at his usual table.

The maitre d' would have been surprised to learn that the gentleman he was seating thought eating to be a rather disgusting habit. It was only because he had accepted a dare from one of his compatriots a few months earlier that he discovered he actually liked risotto. However, upon further investigation, the man discovered that the only risotto he liked, anywhere in the entire universe, was the risotto prepared by Ron Stoppable, who happened to be in deep space at the moment. This might have posed a problem for most patrons. But this patron was not like most diners. Most of them weren't omnipotent beings.

Q snapped his fingers and Ron, who had just been getting ready to prepare Kim dinner on _Enterprise_, suddenly found himself back on Earth, inside a building at the corner of Jackson and Fillmore Streets in the Pacific Heights neighborhood of San Francisco, standing in the middle of the dining room of the restaurant where he worked.

Ron's vacation had just been cut short.

_

* * *

TBC … _


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks to captainkodak1, MichaelCross, Commander Argus, Parareru, Ultimate Naco Topping, JMAN2.0, daywalkr82, CajunBear73, Zaratan, GargoyleSama, Yankee Bard, Emerald Dark Night, calamite, JPMod, KPFan4Life, Taechunsa, General Patton, Vince Stevens, mattb3671, surforst, Nikoagonistes, Markv1.0, momike, Louis Mielke, chefjet, Matri, jasminevr, WhiteLadyoftheRing, strength-91-possibility-none, Ezbok58a, kemiztri, nmorgendorffer, NothingImportantinthisworld, Darkcloud1, Skyagent, whitem, TAZER ZERO, teddybear-514, Daeron Blackoak, conan98002, Theta-Alpha-One, The Halfa Wannabe, SariahSariah, Jak4, WesUAH, Visigoth29527, Wanderer3, TexasDad, zipporahvulcan, Dixon-San, Ace Ian Combat, Supreme Admiral of the Web, IncrediRaider8, and Slyfer for reviewing. And thanks to everyone else for reading.

Write a review, get a response.

Thanks to campy for beta- and proofreading. An adorable little tribble is heading his way …

Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed my one-shot _Cupid Wears Black and Green_. Thanks, too, to those who just read. If you haven't checked it out, give it a try – I think you'll enjoy the story.

I'd also like to recommend Zaratan's charming and clever _Impossible Love_. No spaceships, but it has knights and castles and Kim Possible!

_KP_ belongs to Disney, _TNG_ belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I. 

Ron had been standing in the small galley of his quarters on _Enterprise_, about to retrieve the ingredients for the _paella_ he was going to make for Kim. Now he was standing in the dining room of Mistral. He hadn't the remotest inkling of how he got there.

"Ah, Ron. So nice to see you!" Q said, looking up at the thoroughly confused chef.

Ron blinked twice, then looked down at the table. "Mr. Quince?" he asked, wondering if he was having hallucinations. He had had a few very stressful days and been pumped up with some potent medications.

"In the flesh! But my friends call me Q."

"How'd I get here?" a bewildered Ron asked as he looked around the restaurant with its shocked patrons and staff.

"I brought you here," Q answered. "It's Friday. I'm here for my dinner."

"Did you just say you brought me here? It took me a week on a light-speed transport to get to where I was …"

Q grinned. "It helps to be omnipotent."

"Omnipotent?"

"Yes, you know, all powerful, able to do anything, god-like."

Normally, Ron would take any kind of treatment short of outright abuse from a patron, and even then he would keep his cool as he remonstrated with the offending party. But that evening he snapped, not happy to be condescended to by some all-powerful alien who had interrupted his date preparations. "Dude, if you can do all that, what do you need me here for? Why don't you make your own dinner?"

"Because it's just not the same! The ambience, the banter, that special _je ne sais quoi_ you bring to the presentation."

"Look, I hate to break the news to you, but I'm on vacation and I have dinner plans and neither involves you."

Q frowned at Ron. "You're as difficult as Jean-Luc! And you've only been on that garbage scow of his for a week. Besides, I'm much more fun than Little Miss Starfleet. I won't let you get savaged by wild animals."

Ron's eye narrowed to a slit. "Watch it, dude. Kim's dad designed that ship. And any more cracks about her and you'll be sorry."

"You can't be serious," Q scoffed.

"Note serious face," Ron replied.

"Oh, all right. No more comments about the _Good Ship Lollipop_ or your girlfriend. But speaking of her, if you really must see her, you'd better get into that kitchen and start making my risotto. I do love the Maine lobster you mix in. And I believe I've detected hints of a Martian butter, no?"

Ron recognized that the only way he was going to get back to Kim quickly was through Q's agency. As much as it galled him, Ron knew he was at the alien's beck and call. Still, he had some leverage. Q appeared to be hungry. And he couldn't eat until Ron prepared his meal.

"I'll make your dinner but on one condition."

"What's that?" Q asked, expecting Ron would demand that his ravaged face be healed. The omnipotent being didn't feel he owed Ron that. As far as Q was concerned, Ron was lucky to be alive. If hadn't been for Q's decision to alter the future and cause Kor to survive the climactic battle in the Dominion War, the old monk would never have been alive to find the Sword of Kahless and Ron and Kim would already be dead. Of course, Q wouldn't have his risotto and that was unacceptable. _So, maybe we are even. Best not to say anything, though,_ Q thought. _These humans can be so ungrateful._

"Tell Kim where I am. I don't want her worrying when she discovers I'm not on board. And tell her we're still on for dinner."

"Aww, you are such a romantic …" Q taunted before he trailed off as he began to find Ron's expression rather disconcerting; Q wondered if Ron had been taking pointers from Picard. "Okay, okay. Ta ta!" he said before he disappeared in a flash of light.

Henri, the owner and head chef of Mistral, approached Ron from behind. "You want to tell me what's going on?" the older man asked before Ron turned to look at him. Henri drew in a sharp breath as he saw Ron's face. "What the h …"

Ron sighed. "It's a very long story …"

II.

Kim had just emerged from the shower, wrapped a towel around herself, and stepped out of the bathroom and into her sleeping quarters when Q arrived.

"Don't mind me," he said nonchalantly.

Kim stared at her visitor; every Starfleet security officer had been briefed on the two Alpha Alpha Alpha threat levels: the Borg and Q. The latter was now reclining on Yori's bunk. Kim moved to her bureau and her comm badge.

"Nuh uh. You won't need that just now," Q said as he made the device disappear.

"What do you want?" she finally asked apprehensively, feeling exposed wearing nothing but a towel.

Q laughed. "Oh my. You're worried that I want carnal relations! How revolting! Still, if it will make you feel better …" He snapped his fingers and Kim's towel was replaced by her duty uniform. "So drab," he said, eyeing her. "You really ought to try one of these," he said, waving at his red command uniform with its captain's pips. Before Kim could reply, she found herself wearing similar garb. "Much better," he said with approval. "Captain Kimberly Ann Possible. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"What do you want?" Kim repeated, annoyance supplanting unease.

"I'm just here to deliver a message. Your Ronnie-poo insisted I tell you that he's going to be a little late for your dinner date."

Kim's eyes grew wide. "Ron? What have you done with him?"

"Just sent him back to San Francisco. I was in the mood for some risotto and, well, you get a craving for something and you just can't stop it, so …"

"If you hurt him …"

"Calm down, Little Miss Bubblebutt," Q said, eliciting an embarrassed look from Kim. "He's fine."

Kim let out a sigh of relief.

"Not like it should be any business of yours after taking him on that mission," Q sneered. "Those are some nasty scars he's got. And too bad about that eye. He's actually rather ugly now, isn't he? Rather ironic. You take 18 years to kiss him but only need 48 hours to disfigure him for life. That's no way to take care of your sidekick."

"He is not a sidekick. He's my partner. He's my best friend and my boyfriend," Kim snarled. She looked at Q through narrowed eyes, not liking the way Q was talking about Ron, nor how he was stirring up all of her feelings of responsibility.

"Whatever. You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to … So, when are you going to tell him," Q demanded.

"Tell him what?" Kim asked angrily.

"That you want to call the whole thing off, that you're going back to that 'hottie,' Tom."

Kim's jaw dropped.

"Oh, don't look so shocked. I know your track record, Possible. Walter Nelson. Bobby Johnson. Josh Mankey. Blah blah blah right up through Tom Carter. But never so much as a glance at dopey, dim-witted Ron Stoppable. I'm surprised you even let him kiss you before the incident. Even without the injuries he really is quite goofy looking and not particularly bright. Definitely not up to your usual standards. Was it pity that finally made you stoop to being intimate with him?"

"How dare you! Not that it's any of your business, but I love Ron!"

"Love? Puh-leeze. Admit it. You just feel guilty."

Kim cringed.

"Aha! Gotcha! You only bedded him because you felt bad that he traveled all the way out here to see you and you were all gaga over Tom. Now, you're going to stay with him out of guilt over what happened to him. Guilt borne out of your sense of responsibility for ruining his life."

"That is so not true! None of it! Yes, I feel terrible about what happened to Ron, and I will 'til the day I die. But I'll be with him because I love him."

Q snorted. "What do you know about love? Raging hormones, maybe, but love, true love, you shallow little girl? Do you really think you know what it is, Possible? Do you think you can handle it? It can be scarier than the Borg, you know!"

"Like I don't know that? As if! Do you know what it's like to risk the closest friend you've ever had to try something new? But it's worth all the fears, all the anxieties, all the confusion to be with him. It's wonderful. The most important thing in my life is that Ron and I love each other," Kim said defiantly.

Q rolled his eyes. "A lovely speech, Ensign. Heartfelt, preachy, and confident. You must be taking lessons from Jean-Luc. Be warned, though, he's a bad influence. Before you know it, you'll be long-winded, too!"

"I don't know what your sitch is, Q, and I don't care; this conversation has gone on long enough. I just want Ron back. Now!" Kim demanded.

"Temper, temper, Ensign. He'll be back when I've had my dinner and not a second before," Q said, as he swung his legs over the side of the bunk and stood. He approached Kim and looked her directly in the eye. "The most important thing in my life is that Ron and I love each other," he repeated to her in her own voice. "Lucky you. You may just get the chance to test that proposition. Then we'll see if you really know what true love is all about." Q then disappeared.

Kim was chilled by her visitor's last remarks. Shaken, she walked over to the comm panel to alert the captain about Q's visit when the omnipotent being returned.

"He really does think you're hot, you know."

"The feeling's mutual," she replied with conviction.

"Then maybe you should show him!" Q waved his hand and Kim's captain's uniform was replaced by a very revealing, low-cut, high-hemmed little black dress made of Antarean shimmer cloth; what material there was clung to her in such a way as to accentuate all of her curves and excite the imagination. "Yes, I think he'll like that very much! Oh, and I think you'll want this back …"

The comm badge appeared on Kim's dress and Q once again vanished. She slapped the device.

"Possible to Picard."

"Picard here."

"Sir, I've just had a visit from Q."

"Q? Report to my ready room immediately, Ensign."

"Yes, sir. Possible out."

She turned to her bureau to retrieve a uniform when Q's head reappeared.

"Tut, tut. Disobeying orders, Ensign? Jean-Luc said 'immediately.' Off you go!"

III.

Picard was sorting through a pile of data padds when the familiar Q flash illuminated his ready room and left a flustered Kim Possible standing before him.

"Ensign," the captain said, trying not to stare at Kim's revealing dress – or her very attractive legs.

"Sir," she answered sheepishly, blushing beet red.

Picard was glad he was wearing his turtleneck and duty jacket; he took off the latter and offered it to Kim, who gratefully accepted the garment.

"Please, sit, Ensign," Picard said, motioning towards the couch. "Tea?"

"Please and thank you," she said as she sat down as demurely as she could.

"Congratulations, Ensign," Picard said as he handed her the hot beverage. "You are now part of a very select group of people who have had the misfortune of catching Q's attention." Kim knew from briefings about Picard's and Riker's interactions with the omnipotent being.

"Actually, sir, I think it was Ron who caught his attention."

"Ron?" the captain asked, quite surprised. Even though Jean-Luc Picard now saw Ron Stoppable in a very different light from just a few days earlier, he could not imagine what interest Q would take in the young man.

"Yes, sir. Apparently, Q likes his cooking."

"His cooking?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. Q sent Ron back to San Francisco to make him dinner. Ron told him he had to come here and tell me what was going on."

"Which he did …" Picard said with a hint of wonder in his voice. "Did Q say anything else?"

Kim looked away from her commanding officer. "He decided to lecture me about my love life." Knowing the captain would want every piece of information he could get on Q and how he perceived human affairs, she proceeded to tell Picard about the rest of her conversation with the omnipotent being.

Picard sighed. "Q has a gift for getting under people's skin, Ensign. I think that's his way of saying he likes you. And Ron."

"_Likes_ us?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you should trust him or discount his capacity for malevolent behavior. I believe I am Q's best friend," Picard actually shuddered as he said that, before continuing, "and he showed his friendship by introducing us to the Borg. I think we will need to be on our guard. Q doesn't give warnings unless he plans to make – or just allow – something to happen."

"Yes, sir."

Picard decided it would be a good idea to redirect the conversation. "So, Ensign, I take it Ron is a good cook?"

"Oh yes!" Kim answered with enthusiasm. "He's the _sous chef_ at Mistral in San Francisco. Have you heard of it?"

"I have indeed, Ensign. My brother Robert dined there last fall. He was very impressed. If Ron is working there, he must be very talented."

"He's ferociously good, Captain. He makes the most incredible …"

Picard listened to Kim as she talked with unvarnished pride about Ron's culinary efforts, not knowing that a few years earlier Kim would have bristled at the idea of Ron being superior to her in any activity. The captain was pleased to offer her an attentive ear. He mused on how, despite all that had happened to the young officer and her boyfriend in recent days, she was still quite composed. This wasn't the increasingly diffident officer he'd seen in recent months; this was the young woman that Boothby had told him to take note of. _She has the steel for command_, he thought. _I believe it's time to promote her._

IV.

"Excellent, as always, _mon chef_," Q said, as he patted his lips with his napkin. "You should be quite pleased with yourself, Ron. You know, this is the only food in the entire universe that I'll eat."

"Reminds me of that squirrel that would only eat in Mom's vegetable garden and never from any of the neighbors'," Ron responded caustically.

"Did you just compare me to a suburban yard rodent?" Q asked indignantly. "I am a paying customer, you know."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You want anything else, or can I go back to Kim now?"

"Go back? But the night is young!"

"Yeah, and I'd like to enjoy it before it gets any older," Ron said sourly.

Q frowned. "Oh, fine. Be that way." He waved his hand, sending Ron to Jean-Luc Picard's ready room.

"Ron!" Kim exclaimed. She jumped up from the couch and rushed to her boyfriend, who threw his arms around her.

"KP," he murmured, holding her tight.

"Ah, _mon capitan_!" Q said cheerfully from Picard's chair, in which he was now seated with his feet propped up on the captain's desk. "You seem to be running a veritable love boat here. Young Stoppable couldn't wait to get back to see Miss Possible."

"Q …" the captain seethed.

"You'd better keep an eye on those two, Jean-Luc, or you may be adding a little crew member before long!"

The three humans stared at him.

"I do hope you'll name him after his Uncle Q!"

Kim, having collected herself, pulled a face. "As if."

"As if if!" Ron added.

Q rolled his eyes. "Well, I think I've spent enough time here at the Algonquin Round Table. See you around!" he said before disappearing.

Picard, Kim, and Ron all breathed deep sighs of relief. Of course, just as everyone relaxed, Q decided to reappear. Or at least his head did.

"Ron, I do owe you a tip for that lovely meal. I could fix that face of yours, but I actually think it'll serve you well the way it is. So here's some advice: Think Klingon!" he said in a chipper tone. Then, more ominously, he said to Kim, "And don't forget what I said, Ensign." With those parting words, the mercurial being left them.

Kim explained to Ron what Q had told her; he pulled her close to him. None of them had any idea of what to make of Q's advice to Ron.

"Sir, may we be dismissed?" Kim asked.

Picard looked at the two young people for a moment, then smiled. "Yes, of course … Lieutenant."

"Sir?" Kim asked.

"I know you were expecting word on your promotion from Commander Riker. But it is the captain's prerogative, you know, and I think over these last few days you've demonstrated that you are ready for higher rank. I do hope you won't mind staying in security for now, given the investigation."

"No, sir," Kim said, stunned. "This is so …"

"Badical!" Ron chimed in, grinning from ear to ear and pumping a fist.

"Well, carry on. I'm sure you two would like to … celebrate," Picard said with a dead-pan expression.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!" Kim said, barely able to contain her excitement.

V.

Kim and Ron left the bridge and entered the turbolift. Though Kim was still wearing the captain's duty jacket, Ron couldn't help but notice her little black dress.

"KP, you are smokin'" he said approvingly.

"Thanks, Ron," she said with a giggle and a blush. "Though you should thank Q. He thought you'd like this."

"He thought right," Ron noted with a leer.

"STOP!" Kim ordered the turbolift. She wrapped her arms around Ron's neck, then brought her lips to his. "Mmmm. At least he got something right tonight …"

Ron, who had been wondering if Kim was disappointed that Q had not healed his injuries, quickly set such thoughts aside.

VI.

Ron woke up, pleased to find Kim's arm lying across his chest and her leg thrown over his. He lay there, looking at his childhood friend, now lover, as she slept. Despite everything that had happened over the past few days, at that moment, he couldn't help but think that life was good. At peace with the world, he fell back to sleep.

When he woke up later, Kim was awake, looking at him, a wicked grin on her face.

"What?" he asked.

"You should hear yourself talk in your sleep."

"Uh …"

"You really did like that cheer outfit, didn't you?"

"Heh heh," Ron chuckled, nervously. He was embarrassed.

"Be a good boy and maybe I'll replicate one for you!"

"Oh, I'm all about replication!"

"Oh? I thought you'd be all about the process of replication …" Kim purred as she swung herself on top of him.

VII.

Later, Kim and Ron sat at the table, a breakfast of bacon and eggs before them.

"So, what will you do today, Ron?"

"Worf and I are going to spend some more time doing bat'leth exercises. He is so amped up about the Sword," he added with a grin, recalling the Klingon's awed reaction when Ron told him about meeting Kor and using the bat'leth on the planet. "Then I'm going to have lunch with Commander LaForge and Data. Data's going to show me stellar cartography. And I think some babe in Security is supposed to give me some martial arts training."

"Oooh. You'll like stellar cartography; it's spankin'," Kim said enthusiastically. "Any plans for tonight? Think you'd want to see that martial arts instructor?"

"Nah. I was hoping to find me a hot, newly promoted officer. Preferably one with red hair and green eyes. Got any suggestions?"

"I'll get back to you," she said with a sly grin.

"So, what's up for you today … Lieutenant Possible?" Ron asked.

Kim smiled with pride; she liked the way her new rank sounded. "Well, I have to meet Commander Riker at 0800 hours. Then I'll see you at 0830, because I want you to be there when I pin that pip on," she said with pride, before continuing. "Then I'm meeting with Mr. Data before briefing the Senior Staff on our investigation …"

Ron shot a curious glance at Kim. "Our?"

Kim smiled. "Yes, our. And don't you forget it. Team Possible, remember?"

"Coolio," Ron replied, grinning. "Maybe we can have our own special uniforms, huh? Make a statement!"

Kim chuckled and rolled her eyes. "You are such a goofball. Which is funny, because later in the day I get to do some martial arts training with some goofball, though I've heard he is kind of cute. Then, since you're going to be cruising for women, I thought I'd try to pick up some guy for dinner. Maybe one who can cook for me. And who likes cheer outfits."

Kim and Ron sat quietly, enjoying the banter, enjoying the companionship. After a while, though, Kim's faced grew dark. With annoyance, she said, "I am so not looking forward to working with that guy from GJ."

"KP, you'll do fine," Ron said, reaching across the table to take her hand. "So, does GJ Dork have a name?"

"Will Du," Kim answered with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

VIII.

Shego had left Drakken's World and piloted her ship to New Marrakesh. Once Drakken had explained what it was he needed, Shego understood why he wanted her to 'acquire' the item for him. Drakken didn't have the facilities, let alone the knowledge, to invent the device he required.

She was willing to concede a level of whack brilliance to her employer. But his creativity was leavened with a fatal streak of ineptitude. She suspected that was one of the reasons he was still at large. Even the Federation had limited resources and it couldn't afford to track down every nut job in the galaxy. Now that Lipsky's latest scheme actually was showing promise, Starfleet was nosing around. And while Kim Possible may have just been an annoying pixie who happened to have some good moves, she was backed up by the most potent military force in the Alpha Quadrant.

Shego had never bought the line that Starfleet wasn't a military organization. Its crews wore uniforms and carried ranks. More to the point, they operated ships loaded with weaponry. A _Galaxy_-class starship packed enough firepower to devastate a planet. Shego may have been evil, but she was glad that the Klingons and the Romulans weren't in possession of Federation weapons technology.

Her _modus operandi_ was to treat Starfleet as a hostile military force; she planned her travels accordingly, avoiding major star-traffic routes, Federation patrols, and populated sectors when possible. But she didn't hesitate from appearing in some of the more seedy corners of the Alpha Quadrant. You never knew what you might find beneath a rock, after all.

New Marrakesh was one of those corners, a place that, like Ras T'klar, operated by its own set of rules. Shego headed there looking for information that would lead her to the critical component Drakken needed to make his invention operational. She was confident that the man she was seeking out would be able to provide her with the answers she needed.

Shego had landed her ship at a spaceport at the edge of the city and made her way into a neighborhood of narrow alleys and brooding buildings. She located the place she wanted and was greeted at the front door.

A tall, strong man wearing a red, fez-like hat appraised her; Shego confidently met his gaze.

"Tell Big Daddy Brotherson that Shego is here to see him," she said with authority. "And these are for him," she added as she handed the man a box of Denobulan chocolates.

IX.

"Put it over there. No, there. Good."

Ron waited for Worf to set the bal'leth down in the far corner of the cargo bay, then closed his eyes and cleared his head. He took a deep breath. Then he stretched out his arm and willed the Sword of Kahless to come to him. The weapon rose from the ground and flew to Ron's waiting hands.

"Badical!" he exclaimed. "I am da man!" Ron was feeling pumped. He was still riding a high after Kim insisted that he pin the new pip on her collar.

Worf shook his head and growled. There was no doubt in his mind that Ron Stoppable was one of the bravest humans he had ever met. The good opinion he had of him after their night of drinking had blossomed into frank admiration after Kim and Ron's mission to Ras T'klar. Ron could tell the Klingon was being serious when he told him that he envied his wounds; Worf said they were the mark of a true warrior. Yet despite the high regard in which Worf now held Ron, the Klingon could still not quite accept the Terran's flippant attitude towards things. Worf did not imagine Kahless the Unforgettable saying "Badical" or "I am da man!" and he definitely did not envision the most revered figure in Klingon history … prancing.

Ron and Worf repeated the exercise a number of times; each time, Ron enjoyed the same results.

After practicing retrieval, Worf and Ron moved on to fighting techniques. Worf wondered whether the Sword would transfer any of Kahless' legendary fighting skills to Ron. As fate would have it, Worf had actually known little more than the old monk about the bat'leth; the weapon's true history was shrouded in myth and mystery. Worf did know, however, that any warrior who could make a viable claim to being the Chosen One could have a tremendous impact on Klingon politics. This was a matter he wanted to discuss with Captain Picard – but not before he had more information about Ron's connection with the weapon.

Ron proved to be awkward, uncoordinated – but occasionally brilliant, executing moves Worf had never seen before. Worf was nonplussed; Ron's abilities almost seemed to be random.

"I don't know," he had explained to the Klingon. "It just seems to come and go. When Kim was in danger, I was like a fighting machine. Now, it's all flukey."

"Hmmm." Worf was thinking.

"Don't even go there, dude! We are not endangering KP! No way, nuh uh, ain't gonna happen!"

Worf glowered at Ron. "I was not thinking of doing that."

"Oh. Heh heh. My bad, sorry," Ron said sheepishly.

"Apology accepted. Later, you can buy me a prune juice."

_Prune juice?_ Ron thought.

"I was considering whether meditation might help you develop more consistent control of the Sword and your fighting abilities."

"Weeellll," Ron replied skeptically. Sitting quietly and still was not something he did very well. On the other hand, meditating couldn't be much different from marinating and, despite Ron's improved attitude towards work, he still enjoyed chilling. "Okay. I'm in."

"Good. We will begin tomorrow. Until then, though, let us continue your basic instruction."

Ron was glad he was still holding the bat'leth, since Worf, without warning, swung his weapon at Ron. Without thinking, Ron raised the Sword of Kahless and gracefully parried Worf's blow. The Klingon grinned manically at him before attacking again, only to have this thrust beaten back by Ron. They did this for a while and Ron's moves became steadily less elegant. Worf finally stopped.

"The more you are able to anticipate my attack, the less the blade seems to need to control your movements. This is very interesting."

"Yeah, maybe it is to you, Worf," Ron said rubbing his sore arms. "I'd just as soon have the Mystical Klingon Power do the whole thing. Ya know, make me a full-fledged master of Klingon Kung Fu."

"One only gets to Sto-Vo-Kor by fighting a great battle, Ron."

"Sto-Vo-what?"

"Sto-Vo-Kor. The place in the Klingon afterlife for the honored dead; it is where every Warrior yearns to go."

"Not me. At least not today. And definitely not if KP can't come, too," he said adamantly.

Worf slapped Ron on the back. "Ah, a man who wishes to fall in battle with his mate at his side. You are a true Klingon romantic, Ron Stoppable!"

Ron looked at Worf. Wanting to die in battle with Kim at his side was not on Ron's to-do list. Then again, there was no reason to burst his new friend's bubble.

X.

Kim was sitting at the table in the Observation Lounge with Picard, Data, Riker, LaForge, Crusher and Troi. Worf would normally have attended the meeting of the Senior Staff, but he approved of Kim's promotion and wanted her to have a chance to shine in front of the command officers, something she could better do if he wasn't present for them to turn to, even if only out of habit.

"Admiral Nechayev will arrive tomorrow at 1800 hours. She will be brining bringing Mr. Du from Galactic Justice. In a few minutes, Lieutenant Possible will give us an update on her investigation.

"Number One," the captain continued, "please make arrangements for a cocktail reception for the admiral with the senior officers at 1840 hours. Also, I would like a full dinner for the admiral and myself in my quarters at 2015 hours. And please make sure Mr. Pang is fully briefed on the admiral's culinary preferences. I do not want a repeat of last time."

"Yes, sir," Riker answered, recalling the … unusual … creations of Mr. Pang's predecessor as ship's cook and the chilly reception they had received from the admiral. Picard had been convinced that was the reason Nechayev had sent the Federation flagship on a tedious gofer mission involving some very annoying and demanding Pakled traders.

"Lieutenant, I would like you to be at the reception, too. It will reinforce in the admiral's mind the confidence I have in your ability to run this investigation without GJ interference. While I may have lost that battle, I still want to make the point."

"Thank you, sir," Kim replied, summoning all of her willpower to tamp down her excitement at being invited to such an important event.

"Sir, has the admiral informed you as to why she is visiting _Enterprise_?" Troi asked.

"No, Counselor, she has not, which leads me to believe that she is coming to discuss something of importance. She would not have given us a week's advance notice just to stage a surprise inspection. I am quite curious and a bit concerned, though, as to why she did not feel she could communicate over a secure sub-space channel."

"Sir, there's no such thing as a truly secure channel," Kim observed assuredly.

A small smile played at the corners of Picard's lips. "That is quite true, Lieutenant. It would appear that you and the admiral are in agreement on that point. I would advise you, however, should Admiral Nechayev voice an assumption that is not necessarily justified you exercise a bit more … discretion … before correcting her."

Kim reddened. "Yes, sir."

Riker looked at the chastened junior officer. "It's okay, Kim. Around this table, you're among friends and should feel free to speak freely. Am I right, sir?"

"Indeed, you are, Number One. Lieutenant, I expect all of my officers to provide their honest, considered opinions at all times, but especially when we are in Senior Staff conference. Admiral Nechayev, however …"

"Has a different _modus operandi_," Deanna suggested.

"Exactly," Picard agreed, his wry grin now replaced with a weary smile. "Now, Lieutenant, would you please apprise us of the progress of your investigation?"

Kim looked around the table at the senior officers and collected her thoughts, before she rose from her chair and headed to the view screen behind the captain's chair.

"As you know, Commander Data and I, with Ron's assistance, Mr. O'Brien's input, and information provided by Guinan, have learned a lot over the last few days," Kim began confidently. "Ron was able to learn from a Ferengi trader that an individual named Shego …

While Kim spoke, Shego's image appeared on the screen. Deanna noticed the animus radiating from Kim towards the picture as she spoke.

"… was responsible for the thefts of the three items we initially identified. Mr. Data has determined that she is behind additional thefts, too.

"We have determined that the most likely intent is to use the stolen devices to construct an artificial wormhole."

Geordi LaForge spoke up. "Do they have a power source? Without that, it would be like having a starship without a warp core."

"Mr. Data has a theory about that, sir."

The officers turned to the android. "The amount of energy necessary to open and sustain an artificial wormhole would be prodigious and require a generator of immense proportions. The scale and effort required to construct such a power plant would be beyond anything the Federation, or any other Alpha Quadrant civilization, has ever attempted."

"But you think someone may attempt to do so now," suggested Dr. Crusher.

"Unfortunately, yes. There is one solution that, though hypothetical, would provide the requisite amounts of energy. It would also prove to be an incredibly potent weapon on its own."

The image of a cylinder girdled by two LED bands appeared on the screen.

"And what is that?" Picard asked.

"That, sir, is a Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer," Data answered.

"A what?" asked Riker.

"A Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer," the android repeated.

"Sir," Kim interjected, responding with a composure that she herself found surprising, "the PDVI was invented in the early 21st century. It had the ability to warp the very fabric of space and time; in doing that it could release an incredible amount of energy."

"How much, Lieutenant?" the captain asked, knowing he would not like the answer.

"Enough to destroy an area the size of the state of Nevada," Kim answered.

"Why have we never heard of this before? Surely someone would have tried to fabricate one of these devices in the past three and a half centuries?" Picard asked.

"The technology underlying the PDVI involved a series of complex mathematical equations known as the Sachs Theorems. The solution to those problems was lost during World War Three when Professor Sachs died. Nobody has been able to solve the equations in the years since," Data explained.

"Meaning that nobody can create a new Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer," Kim added.

"This sounds like it would have been a truly dreadful weapon if it had been used on Earth, but is it powerful enough to open and sustain a wormhole?" Deanna asked.

"Not in its 21st century form, no," Kim answered. "But 370 years ago nobody knew how to control matter/anti-matter reactions. Today, theoretically, an operational Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer, powered by modern technology, could be used to open a wormhole. Or destroy an entire planet."

"Lieutenant, you said the PDVI was invented in the 21st century," Picard noted. "What happened to the device?"

"It was believed destroyed during the War. However, there were signs that it may have survived …"

"Lieutenant, are you saying it may still exist?"

"Sir," Kim said looking directly into her captain's eyes with a steadiness he found impressive, which affirmed his decision to promote her, "We have to assume it still exists. If someone is attempting to assemble the components of an artificial wormhole generator, they must know about the power requirements. And we have to assume that they know the PVDI is the only practical way to meet their needs. Unfortunately, we don't know where it is. At the moment, we can only hope they don't either, and that we find it before they do."

"I would strongly encourage you to do just that, Ms. Possible," Picard said, thinking_ Before a planet, possibly inhabited by billions of people, is destroyed._

Kim looked at her captain, holding his gaze. There really was nothing else to be said.

XI.

Shego gamely indulged Big Daddy Brotherson. She had played rock, scissors, paper; swapped riddles; been stumped by a Chinese finger puzzle; and experienced the challenges of the Bolian quizzler. She had done all of these things with grace and focus, not wanting to find herself playing a game of 'Thud.'"

Brotherson, satisfied, indicated that he was prepared to proceed to business.

"I need information," Shego said.

"Information is the most valuable commodity in the universe, Ms. Shego. More valuable than gold-pressed latinum, more precious than dilithium crystals."

Shego patiently and politely listened to the beefy, balding man wax eloquent. He may have been eccentric, but he was also possibly the best-informed humanoid in the Alpha Quadrant.

"What kind of information would you be seeking?" he asked.

"I'm looking for something. I need to know its location," she answered.

"I see. And what would that something be?" he asked, one eyebrow arched. Curiosity drove Brotherson. He collected information because he had an insatiable desire to know; that it enabled him to become incredibly wealthy and influential was a side benefit.

"A Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer."

Big Daddy Brotherson, looking thoughtful, steepled his fingers. A small smile danced at the corners of his mouth.

"Ah, Ms. Shego. You are still as good as your reputation. You are bold, audacious, ambitious, a woman without fear."

Shego wasn't sure where this was going.

"I must confess that I remain surprised that you are still in the employ of Drew Theodore P. Lipsky. Your talents, not to mention your charms, are wasted on him."

"Uh, thanks," Shego said uneasily. She so didn't want to even entertain the possibility that Brotherson was beginning to hit on her.

"However," Big Daddy continued. "How you choose to occupy yourself is your affair.

"The Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer: a small device capable of manipulating the very fabric of space and time. It is most fortunate for you and me that it was lost during the early days of the Third World War; otherwise, humanity might have been exterminated and you and I would not be sitting here, able to enjoy playing games and engaging in conversation.

"Tell me, Ms. Shego. How much would you pay to know the location of the vortex inducer?"

"Up front? Fifty bars of gold-pressed latinum … later, a whole lot more."

"Ms. Shego, I think you underestimate the value of that which you seek. Besides, I do not need filthy lucre."

"I see," Shego said evenly. Shego liked filthy lucre.

"Do not take offense; it is just that I already have more money than I will ever need." He paused, clearly giving consideration to something. "Perhaps you would be willing to pay me with information. I have heard a most fascinating rumor about the Sword of Kahless. It is said that this magnificent artifact was seen within the last few days on Ras T'klar. My sources – and I do not refer to the Ferengi Bunt who, not surprisingly is very much in fear of you – tell me you were there recently. I have a client who is most interested in acquiring this unique piece of Klingon history. Perhaps you can help me locate it in exchange for information regarding the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer."

Shego was slightly unnerved to know that her presence on Ras T'klar was known to Brotherson. She had thought she'd kept a low profile and drawn attention away from herself by leaving Kim Possible holding the proverbial bag; she'd even learned that, just as she hoped, the T'klarians were seeking the Starfleet officer's extradition in conjunction with the melee at the warehouse. Now Shego wondered what else Brotherson knew about her and her activities.

"Sounds interesting," she finally said. "So what do you propose?"

"You will help me locate the Sword of Kahless and I will then help you with your inquiry."

"How do I know you won't take the money, so to speak, and run?"

"Because, Ms. Shego, I am an honorable man. I do not conduct business that way. And to give you incentive to accept my offer, I will tell you this now: the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer does indeed exist. And it is functional."

Shego's eyes opened wide, both at the news that the PDVI existed and the prospect that Dr. D's whack plan was actually viable.

"Okay, Big Daddy. You've got yourself a deal," Shego said." And I think we can move this along pretty quickly. I actually think I know where the Sword is."

"Oh?" Brotherson asked, mildly surprised.

"Yeah. Aboard the U.S.S. _Enterprise_."

"Really?" Big Daddy said. "And why do you say that, Ms. Shego?"

"Because," she replied, "I'm pretty sure I saw it in the hands of a Starfleet pixie named Kim Possible, whose service records say she's a member of _Enterprise_'s crew." Shego knew she was going with a hunch. But something told her she was right about the bat'leth she'd seen in Possible's hands.

Brotherson smiled. "That is most excellent. Most excellent indeed. Since you have been forthcoming, I will respond in kind. The Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer has been disassembled …"

A dark look crossed Shego's face.

"Fear not. It is in just two pieces." Brotherson retrieved a data padd, pressed some buttons, and handed the device to Shego. "You will find one half of the item at the location described in this file. Stay in touch with me, Ms. Shego. If what you say is true, I will soon be able to provide you with the additional information you seek regarding the other half of your Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer."

_

* * *

TBC …_


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks to campy, captainkodak1, Commander Argus, MichaelCross, Ultimate Naco Topping, Sariah Sariah, JAM2.0, Yuri Sisteble, NothingImportantinthisworld, daywlkr82, JPMod, Zaratan, The Odd Little Turtle, calamite, mattb3671, jasminevr, surforst, Supreme Admiral of the Web, Matri, momike, Skyagent, Louis Mielke, Seamus Dubh, strength-91-possibility-none, vanillalilies, IncrediRaider8, Ace Ian Combat, Darkcloud1, TexasDad, Ezbok58a, Taechunsa, RngrThorne, Vince Stevens, conan98002, Goinghome, Emerald Dark Knight, Wanderer3, and Brother to Vorlons for reviewing and to everyone else for reading.

Write a review, get a response.

Mad props to campy for beta- and proofreading.

Since Mrs. Dr. P. and I will be moving house next Friday, _KP:TNG_ will be taking a break. Kim, Ron and the TNG crew will return in two weeks' time. However, I will be posting two special Valentine's Day Week stories. Keep an eye open for _Zorpox and the Cheerleader_ and _What Happens in Vegas …_

Looking for something fun to read? Check out Commander Argus' _It Finally Happened._ It's a great story that begins just after the Prom.

_KP_ belongs to Disney, _TNG_ belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I. 

"So, Ron," Geordi said, "you mind my asking if you've given any thought to what you might do about …"

"The eye?" he asked with a sigh. "Doctor Crusher says I have some weird disease that means my body will reject any organic replacement. So, no transplants, no cloning. She also said the optic nerve was so badly damaged that it can't be regurgitated …"

"I think you mean 'regenerated'" Data observed.

"… uh, yeah," Ron said. "Anyway, there's nothing to connect anything else to, so I'm stuck."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Thanks," he sighed. "At least I can do something about my face, but she said the operation would take months and even then I won't look like I did before" Ron sagged, then looked away from his companions. "KP deserves better."

"KP? Kitchen Patrol?" the android asked, confused.

"KP … _Kim Possible_, Data," Geordi suggested, wondering how his brilliant friend could still be so dense at times.

"Ah," Data said. "I see."

Geordi turned to his despondent lunch guest. "Ron, don't sell yourself short."

"It's hard not to. I was feeling better about things this morning, but I walk the decks and people look at me …"

"Like you are not normal. Different. Unusual. A freak. A …" Data interjected.

"Data, you're not being helpful," Geordi said.

"But is it not true? I know that is the experience I have had in some settings," the android replied.

"That's it, Data. That's exactly how I feel," Ron said bitterly. "A one-eyed freak. Walking down the corridor with the most beautiful woman on the ship. So everybody probably thinks she's a freak, too, or with me out of pity."

"Ron, I've felt that way before, too," Geordi acknowledged, tapping his visor, before continuing. "Look, it's none of my business, but since this happened, have you and Kim, well, uh, you know, been …"

"I think Geordi means to ask if you and Lieutenant Possible have engaged in sexual intercourse."

Ron, slack-jawed and beet red, looked at Data. Geordi groaned.

"I will take your reaction as an affirmative response. I believe the next question is, 'was it good for you?'"

"Data, shut up."

The android cocked his head. "But …"

"Shut up. Now," Geordi said sternly to Data before turning back to Ron. "Look, all that matters is what your friends think, especially Kim. And, Ron, I gotta tell you – I've been waiting all my life to have a woman smile the way she did when she mentioned after Senior Staff that the two of you were going to be sparring this afternoon. She really cares about you. A lot. Don't ever forget that. To be honest," he added with a laugh, "I bet Data here is going to have lots of opportunities to ask you out-of-line questions."

Ron shook his head. "I hope you're right. It's just tough."

"No need to deny that, Ron," Geordi advised. "Just remember, there are a lot of people here who want to help."

Ron looked at his new friends. "Thanks," he said, hoping their help would be enough.

II.

Kim's mood had soured since her breakfast with Ron. The implications of the possible existence of the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer were sobering. And the excitement of being invited to the reception with Admiral Nechayev had been replaced with disappointment when it dawned on her that she'd have to miss yet another evening with Ron, who would be leaving in just a few days.

And now she was tweaked with Ron. He was supposed to meet her in the gym fifteen minutes ago, but hadn't arrived and he wasn't responding to her comm badge calls. She was on a tight schedule, now that she had to prepare for the evening, and so went to her missing boyfriend's quarters to find out what the sitch was.

She pressed the door chime, but received no answer. She tried a second time, with the same result. She shook her head, then pressed the keypad and let herself in.

Kim entered and saw Ron sitting at the desk, his head in his folded arms. She was sure she heard muffled crying. "Ron?" she said gently, her earlier annoyance evaporating as she came up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Go away," he said.

"Ron, what is it?" she asked, wondering if she might have done something to so upset him.

"Just go away."

"So not going to happen, Ron. You're stuck with me. Now sitch me."

Ron looked up at Kim. He had been crying. It was strange to see just one side of his face streaked with tears. She reached out and wiped his cheek.

"I'm friggin' useless! I'm a pariah!" Ron snapped.

Kim knew she had to be patient with Ron. Counselor Troi had asked earlier how Ron was and Kim said he seemed to be in good spirits. Deanna was pleased to hear that, but warned Kim not to be surprised if Ron experienced some mood swings and even bouts of depression over his condition.

"Ron, that's so not true and you know it! I'll leave aside how important you are to me for the moment. You know that Henri couldn't run Mistral without you!"

Ron glared at Kim. "Well, apparently he didn't get the memo padd, KP." Suddenly, Ron's sorrow returned, displacing his anger, as he said in a small, quiet voice, "He fired me."

"What are you talking about?" Kim asked, stunned.

"I came back after lunch to get ready to meet you and found a sub-space transmission. Henri said he had to let me go. Patrons didn't like Q just appearing and disappearing in the dining room. And he said my face caused some of them to lose their appetites. Based on the look he gave me when he first saw me, I suspect he lost his, too." Ron sat quietly for a moment before adding with a bitter laugh, "He said he'd give me a recommendation, though."

"Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry …"

Ron ignored Kim's words. "Guess Bonnie was right. I'm a loser, KP. My face is a mess and now I'm unemployed. Now I just need you to dump me and I'll have the trifecta …" he said glumly.

Kim knelt by Ron. "Ron, I'm not going to dump you. I don't know how to get that through your thick skull. You are so maddening sometimes!" She reached up and stroked his injured cheek. "You know, every time I see this I'm reminded of how much you care about me."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah. Now, we still have 35 minutes before I have to get ready for … snap!"

"What is it, KP? What do you have to get ready for?" Ron asked.

Kim explained about the reception for Nechayev. "I'm sorry, Ron."

"Hey, no big, KP. She's an admiral, I'm just …"

"The most important person in my life. Now, since we don't have time to go to the gym, I think we should have a quick workout here," Kim said with an inviting smile, as she got up and began to unzip her uniform.

III.

"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc, he's dead."

"Cause?" _Not that it matters_, he thought.

"A massive coronary. He died instantly," Dr. Crusher answered.

"_Merde_," Picard swore as he looked at the corpse of the deceased ship's cook. He regretted the untimely death of any crew member, but was honest enough with himself to admit that he found Pang's death to be especially inconvenient. Nechayev would be aboard in just a few short hours, expecting a proper meal. "Thank you, Doctor," he said as he turned to leave Sickbay.

Picard strode onto the bridge. "Number One, please join me in my ready room."

Riker, sitting in the captain's chair, got up and followed his superior officer into the small office adjoining the bridge.

"Tea, Earl Grey, hot," Picard instructed the replicator. "Will, please tell me that the assistant ship's cooks are capable of filling the gap left by Mr. Pang's unexpected demise."

Riker grimaced in a way that told Picard he was about to be disappointed. "I'm sorry, sir, but Kennedy has Rigelian Flu and T'vol transferred out last week. There are two trainees who might be able to manage ration packs."

The two men looked at each other; they both realized they were having the same thought. T'vol had left on the transport _Bryson_. That was the ship that brought …

"Lieutenant Possible did say he is the _sous chef_ at Mistral in San Francisco," Picard noted, a note of hope in his voice.

Riker grinned. "And she was raving about his cooking when we were on the array."

"Well, Number One, nothing ventured, nothing gained," the captain said as he reached to hit his comm badge.

IV.

"Oh, Ron! Yess! Yess!" Kim cried out as her boyfriend drove her crazy with pleasure.

"Kim …Kim," he moaned, his excitement building.

"Picard to Stoppable."

The air went out of the balloon.

"Picard to Stoppable."

Kim and Ron looked at each other. Seriously tweaked, Ron rolled off of Kim and grabbed the badge she had given him. "Stoppable here," he answered, unable to hide his confusion and annoyance.

"I'm sorry if I've disturbed you, Mr. Stoppable. Would you be able to come see me in my ready room in ten minutes?" the captain asked.

Kim shrugged, indicating she had no idea as to why Picard would want to see him, though the tone in Picard's voice suggested he wanted something.

"Okay, Captain," Ron answered, looking at Kim. "But I'm, uh, finishing something here. Can I come in, uh, twenty, no, thirty?"

"That would be fine. Picard out."

Kim grinned, then pulled her boyfriend back to her. Sometimes a lieutenant outranked a captain.

V.

After he and Kim had finished exercising, Ron quickly cleaned up and went to see the captain. He had enjoyed the time he and Kim had spent together. He hoped he'd be able to remember that the next time he was feeling low, which he knew was inevitable. Yet the way she gave herself to him only drove home that she meant everything she had been saying to him. And that meant the galaxy to him.

As Ron walked onto the bridge, Riker got up and turned to him, smiling. "Go right in. He's expecting you."

Ron nodded, still baffled by the summons. He entered the ready room.

"Ah, Ron, thank you for coming. May I get you something to drink?"

Ron was thirsty. He suddenly had an intense craving for a Slurpster. But he didn't think that would reflect well on Kim and right now, he was all about making Kim look good to her captain. He noticed the captain was drinking tea.

"Uh, yeah, sure. How about a Darjeeling with some milk, no sugar."

Picard retrieved the drink for his visitor, who was still standing. "Please, have a seat."

Ron accepted the invitation and sat on the couch.

"Ron, I have a problem and I hope you can help me," Picard confessed. He explained the situation with Nechayev and the ship's cooks. "I know you are on vacation, and you have already sacrificed more than the Federation or Starfleet could ever rightfully expect, but this would be a tremendous help. I would be personally indebted to you."

Ron was dumbfounded. He considered the captain's request for a moment. It wasn't as if he had anything else to do that evening, now that Kim was going to the reception, though he had hoped to see her afterwards. Still, he could see her a bit later, and doing this could only help Kim.

"Okay. What time?"

"2015 hours."

Ron got up. "Then I'd better get to work. You or your visitor have any special likes or dislikes?" he asked with a note of authority that Picard found surprising.

"I will gladly eat anything you prepare, Mr. Stoppable. Commander Riker can fill you in on the admiral's preferences and take you to the galley."

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah, about that …"

Picard's eyebrow arched. "Yes?"

"I, uh, don't mean any disrespect, Captain. This is a badical ship, I'm sure, because Mr. Dr. P designed it and everything. But I've seen the galley. It reminds me of the New Middleton High School kitchen. The only thing missing is Cafeteria Lady."

"Cafeteria Lady?" a confused Picard asked.

"You don't want to know. She used to do things with food that violated the laws of nature. Though Starfleet could clone her and send her onto enemy ships …" Ron mused.

"Ron …" the captain interjected, remembering that he was dealing with a civilian who clearly marched to his own drummer. "Is there anything we might we do to make the galley … acceptable?"

"Oh, sure …" Ron replied before he launched into an explanation of his requirements; having listened to Ron, Picard slapped his comm badge. The captain was willing to concede that Ron wasn't making idle demands. Ron spoke like the professional chef he was: one who could actually deliver a meal that might buy some good will with Nechayev; Picard really didn't want to have a repeat visit with the Pakleds. "Mr. LaForge, please meet Mr. Stoppable and Commander Riker in the galley in ten minutes. I will need you to be prepared to fabricate some new galley equipment …"

VI.

"You are sure of this, Mr. Worf?"

"Yes, sir, I am," the Klingon said to his commanding officer. "Ron Stoppable is the Chosen One ..."

Picard looked at his chief of security. There were few men whose judgment he trusted more than Worf's.

"… And I believe we must let Gowron know. This development could be of great importance to the Empire."

"I understand that, Mr. Worf, but it could also be disruptive."

"Sir, imagine if the Ark of the Covenant described in the ancient Hebrew Scriptures of Earth were discovered and then hidden away in a storage facility, only to be discovered at a later date. There would be outrage."

"That is true, Mr. Worf," Picard acknowledged. _Though given Federation bureaucracy,_ Picard mused to himself,_ I doubt the Ark would ever surface._ "Very well, I will contact the Chancellor. But I must be sure: Ron is fully aware of what this might mean?"

"Sir, Ron Stoppable knows of the legend of the Sword of Kahless. I am not sure, however, that anyone is fully aware of what this might truly mean for the Empire or the Federation."

Picard looked thoughtfully at Worf, then turned to his desktop computer, then began speaking the authorization codes that would give him, as the Arbiter of Succession, access to the leader of the Klingon Empire.

Picard was put through to Gowron's chief military aide who informed the captain that the chancellor was indisposed.

"General, Let me suggest you inform Chancellor Gowron that he contact me as soon as possible, lest he find himself in a … situation where he will have far more time on his hands," Picard said evenly.

The uniformed Klingon glowered at the captain before responding. "I will communicate your message to Gowron. _Qapla'!_"

"_Qapla'!_" Picard said in reply, watching the seal of the Klingon Empire appear on his screen.

An uppity admiral and an uppity chancellor. Picard wondered what other difficult people he was going to be called on to deal with in the near future.

VII.

"So you don't mind that I offered to do this? To be honest, KP, I really wasn't thinking … I should've checked in with you first," Ron said sheepishly. He was talking to Kim via a wall comm unit and felt a bit weird talking to a bulkhead.

"It's no big, Ron. We'll just have a late dinner. It's so not the drama," Kim said, "Besides, I think it's spankin' that Captain Picard asked for your help. What are you going to make?"

"I dunno. I, well, KP, how important is this to you?"

"Why do you ask, Ron?"

"Well, I brought you some Alaskan King salmon, first run, but I bet Miss Fussy Pants …"

Ron noticed the look on Riker's face – it was one of warning to not call Nechayev that name coupled with a frank admission that he thought Ron was dead on.

"… would really like it. Your call, Kimbo."

"Ron, that sounds so good. Fresh fish from Earth. Wow. But something tells me you'll give me a rain check."

"You can count on that, KP."

"Okay, then why don't we help the captain; I've heard the admiral can be … demanding."

"Sounds like a plan, Kim. Look, I better go, Commander Riker is waving at me."

"Ron … Love ya."

Ron smiled. "Back atcha, KP."

Ron pressed the button and ended the conversation, then turned to Riker.

"Did I hear you say you had Alaskan King salmon on board, Ron?"

"Yep. Nothing too good for Kim," he said proudly.

Riker whistled. "And she's giving that up for Nechayev? She's a better officer than I am," he said with a grin; Riker's vegan principles evaporated when it came to fresh fish from his native state. "So, tell me about this range you're having Geordi fabricate. He's not sure whether he should think you're a culinary genius or stark raving mad."

"It's an Aga. Twentieth century, gas powered. Made in England. It's to cooking what this ship is to space travel."

"That what you cook on back in San Francisco?"

"It was," Ron said, suddenly feeling morose.

"Was?" Riker asked, surprised.

Ron explained what happened. He was surprised when the First Officer's mouth broke into a huge smile.

"Mr. Stoppable, have you ever considered a career in Starfleet?" Riker asked as he wrapped his arm around Ron's shoulder.

VIII.

Tom Carter was fuming.

It was bad enough that Riker and LaForge had barely acknowledged his presence when they passed in the corridor earlier that afternoon. But they had been with Ron Stoppable, who had stolen Kim from him.

Carter was tweaked.

_How could Kim have dumped me for that, that … buffoon?_ He wondered.

It made no sense. Stoppable didn't seem particularly bright, even if he could handle himself in an argument; he had retrograde views on topics like food – views that Kim apparently had harbored, which made Tom shudder; and he was nothing but a glorified cook.

Sure, he was brave; everybody had heard about the mission to Ras T'klar. But was he truly brave or simply stupid? If he hadn't volunteered for the assignment, he and Kim never would have gone to the Treaty Planet – and they would never have found themselves on that moon where Stoppable had been injured – that was his own fault – and Kim nearly killed – he couldn't forgive Ron for that.

Tom Carter, on the other hand, had graduated third in his class at the Academy, was the son of the First Officer of the _Galaxy_-class starship _Kirov_, was polished and handsome and just what a woman like Kim Possible needed in her life.

Carter remembered how he had found a still wild young officer with preposterous notions of what she could do and helped provide her with direction. Tom knew that he and Kim were a great team. He had it all figured out. Someday, he'd be captain of his own ship and Kim, by then his wife, would be chief of security. They'd do great things together.

But then Stoppable showed up and ruined everything.

He'd taken Kim from him.

She deserved better than Ron Stoppable. She shouldn't have to go through life with a deformed moron who didn't understand what was best for her. She deserved Tom Carter.

Tom wasn't sure how he'd do it, but he was determined to win back Kim, even if it wasn't pretty. As the man once said, sometimes, to make an omelet, you have to break some eggs.

IX.

"Sir, we are receiving a hail from _Ferranti_," Data said.

"Put it through," Picard replied.

"Jean-Luc, good to see you!" declared _Ferranti'_s commanding officer with the enthusiasm of a man who is about to divest himself of an unwanted guest.

"The sentiment is mutual, Thabo," Picard answered. "Is the admiral ready to come aboard?"

"Yes, she is," the spare African said, his face communicating what he dare not say out loud: _Watch out. She's in a mood!_

Picard simply smiled and nodded. "Very well then. Take up position off our starboard quarter; we will then beam Admiral Nechayev aboard."

"Consider it done, Jean-Luc," _Ferranti_'s captain said in a way that made Picard feel like he had just agreed to accept delivery of a warp core that was on the verge of going critical. "M'benga out."

Picard watched as the image of his fellow starship commander was replaced by the reaches of interstellar space before turning to his executive officer.

"Well, Number One, it looks like it is time for us to greet our visitor."

"Yes, sir," Riker said sympathetically.

"Mr. Data, you have the bridge," Picard said as he rose from his chair and made his way to the turbolift.

X.

"Look, dude, I don't care if you are a whateveryoucallit systems specialist!" Ron barked at the stunned crewman, "This is not the pan I asked for. Now if you want to explain to Captain Picard why his dinner tanked, be my guest!"

"Sorry, Mr. Stoppable, I'll go back to engineering and try again," the harried man said, heading for the door.

"Wait," Ron said.

The Denobulan turned back to Ron.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I've just been under a lot of stress …"

"… and you want this meal to turn out just right. If Captain Picard looks good, Lieutenant Possible looks good."

Ron, slack jawed, stared at the man, who smiled in return.

"C'mon, Mr. Stoppable. Everybody on board knows; I can tell you that everyone in Engineering is pulling for you two."

"Aw, man …" Ron whined. _This is like being back in high school_, he thought. _Though in high school, I never dated Kim. So maybe it isn't like high school. But if everyone's talking about us it is like high school …_

"Excuse, me, Mr. Stoppable," the bemused crewman said, interrupting Ron's mental dialogue. "I'm going to go fabricate the pan you asked for. I'll be back in a few minutes," he added as he left Ron alone in the galley.

Ron looked around the starship's food preparation area. In a very short time, the space had been reconfigured to approach his standards. He wondered how the flagship of the entire Federation had been sent into space with a kitchen that would have met with the disapproval of even Cafeteria Lady.

He had his back to the door and his hands on the counter as he shook his head and muttered, "Mr. Dr. P. …"

"So, what about Daddy?" Kim asked, nestling her chin on Ron's shoulder.

Ron was surprised when he felt his girlfriend's arms wrap around his middle. "Kim, your dad is one of the most brilliant people I've ever met. He knows how to create badical starships – and daughters …" that earned Ron a contented purr of approval "… but he knows squat about kitchens."

Kim laughed. "Ron, what do you remember eating at our house on the nights Dad was responsible for making dinner?"

Ron thought about that. "Hmmm. Chinese take-out. Bueno Nacho. Pizza … Ah, I'm seeing a pattern here!"

"Good job, Einstein!" Kim said, nibbling on Ron's ear.

"Oooo, KP, I like that! You want to be Assistant Temporary Ship's Cook?"

"I'd like that," she said to Ron, before she reluctantly pulled away from him, "but I have to go get ready for the reception for Admiral Nechayev. I just thought I'd stop by before heading back to my quarters."

Kim studied Ron's face for a moment, then gently poked him in the chest. "Okay. Spill. You've got a secret! Don't make me use the Pout!"

"Commander Riker asked me if I might be interested in becoming Ship's Cook …"

Kim stared at Ron, her mouth open with surprise.

"… What do you think?" he asked

Kim threw her arms around him and kissed him.

"I'll take that as your way of saying this is a good idea?" Ron asked with a grin.

"Ferociously good! I can't wait to talk with you about this later on!" Kim looked at her boyfriend. "Snap. I wish I didn't have to go now."

"Duty calls, yadda yadda yadda."

"So yadda," Kim said with a fetching smile, before turning to leave. "See you after your debut, Chef Boy!"

Ron forgot about his injuries and all of his troubles as he watched his lifelong best friend-turned-girlfriend leave the galley. After the door slid closed and he was alone he thrust his fists towards the ceiling and let out a very hearty "Booyah!"

XI.

"Welcome aboard, Admiral," Picard said, extending his hand to his visitor.

"Thank you, Captain," Nechayev replied coolly as she stepped off the transporter pad. "Commander Riker," she said nodding at _Enterprise_'s XO, before turning her attention back to Picard. "I'm looking forward to our dinner after the reception."

"I'm glad to hear that, Admiral," Picard said.

"Yes. Now, let me introduce Will Du of Galactic Justice," she said, as a young man in a Starfleet command red uniform stepped off the platform.

"Sir, Will Du, at your service."

"I am sure you are wondering about Mr. Du's uniform, Captain. Even though he is assigned to Galactic Justice, he holds the rank of lieutenant. We are very fortunate to have his assistance. He is one of GJ's top agents."

"I see," Picard said, hiding his pique at having Galactic Justice insert itself into an investigation that a member of his crew was quite ably handling. "And this would be?" the captain asked, looking at the young woman standing on the platform.

"My Protocol Aide, on assignment from the Federation Diplomatic Corps. Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Ms. Bonnie Rockwaller, Ms. Rockwaller, Captain Picard."

The starship commander shook hands with the young diplomat.

"It's an honor to meet you, Captain," Bonnie said in a pleasant, if slightly ingratiating, tone.

"Thank you, Ms. Rockwaller. Now, allow me to welcome you both aboard _Enterprise_," Picard said, looking at Will and Bonnie. "I hope you both enjoy your stay with us. Commander Riker will escort you to your quarters. The reception will begin in approximately 35 minutes; I look forward to seeing you in Ten Forward.

"Admiral, if I may …" he suggested, reaching for her duffle bag.

"Thank you, Captain," Nechayev said in a manner that made him feel like a bellhop. Even Lwaxana Troi, who occasionally treated Picard like a butler never actually managed to make him feel like the help.

XII.

Kim was talking with Beverly Crusher when the doors to Ten Forward slid open and Picard, Nechayev, Will Du and Bonnie entered.

"I so cannot believe it …" Kim said, surprised by the appearance of her old high school classmate.

"Believe what, Lieutenant?" the doctor asked.

Kim realized she'd just spoken aloud. Leave it to Bonnie to help throw Kim just by entering a room. "Oh, uh, the woman with the captain and the admiral. We went to school together."

"Really? The galaxy sure is a small place," Beverly observed. "Well, I'm sure the two of you will enjoy catching up," the doctor added as she peeled away from Kim and headed to Deanna, who was beckoning _Enterprise_'s CMO.

Kim watched as Picard made introductions. It wasn't long before the captain and the visitors had reached her.

"Admiral Nechayev, allow me to introduce Lieutenant Kimberly Ann Possible, our lead investigator on the Array case."

"Lieutenant," Nechayev said frostily.

"Sir," she responded crisply.

"Your father designed this ship, if I'm correct?" she asked.

"Yes, sir, he did."

"It must be very nice to serve on board, then. A family affair."

"It was a great privilege, sir, to be posted to the Federation's flagship."

"Yes, it was," Nechayev replied, giving Kim the once over as if she was looking for something to be wrong with her uniform. "Lieutenant, allow me to introduce Mr. Du; he will be working with you on the investigation."

"Lieutenant Possible," he said smugly, extending his hand.

"Mr. Du," she acknowledged, taking an instant dislike to the GJ man, who was now wearing civilian clothing.

"And I understand you already know Ms. Rockwaller," the admiral said evenly.

"Yes, sir. Bonnie, welcome to _Enterprise_."

"Thank you, Kim. It's good to be here," Bonnie replied.

Kim suddenly felt wary as she recognized the look on Bonnie's face as her one-time classmate's predator's smile. It was the same one she'd worn back in high school when she had tried to depose Kim as captain of the cheer squad. Kim knew something was up – and she suspected she wasn't going to like it.

The introductions were interrupted by the chirping of Picard's comm badge.

"Picard here."

"The secure transmission you were expecting, sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I'm on my way to my ready room."

Picard looked at the admiral. "If you will excuse me …"

"Of course, Captain. Should I still plan on seeing you at dinner?" Nechayev asked. For all her coolness to Picard, she knew if he was excusing himself, it was with good reason.

"Yes, indeed," he replied, before turning to Kim. "Lieutenant, you're with me," Picard said much to her surprise before he signaled Worf to join them.

XIII.

Worf, knowing why they were going to the bridge, fell behind Picard and Kim, so the captain could apprise her of the situation.

"I'm sorry to be doing this on such notice, Lieutenant, but it seemed appropriate to include you."

"I understand, sir. But why not Ron?" she asked.

"I am not ready for Chancellor Gowron to know the identity of the Chosen One. Mr. Worf, however, can attest to Ron's ability to command the Sword and you can attest to the changes to the weapon before and after the … incident."

"I see. Permission to speak freely?" she asked as they boarded the turbolift.

"Of course."

"We need to tell Ron, sooner rather than later. He has a right to know he's being discussed with the Klingon High Chancellor."

"Lieutenant, I will tell him as soon as is appropriate. The potential political ramifications of this are enormous."

"I understand, sir, but Ron is not a thing to be used in diplomatic games. He's already done more for the Federation than almost anyone on board this ship."

"On that point, Lieutenant, I could not agree with you more," Picard said as the doors to the bridge slid open.

The three officers made their way to the ready room, where Picard accepted the transmission from _Qo'noS_.

"Picard," Gowron growled curtly.

"Chancellor, so good to see you," Picard replied; the human and the Klingon unfolded their dialogue as if they were seasoned kabuki performers. Each man had a role to play and each would observe form as they sought to re-establish their authority. Gowron may have been ruler of the Klingon Empire, but Picard had the ability, as Arbiter of Succession, to undermine the Klingon's hold on office. At the same time, Gowron knew that Picard would not act rashly, lest he damage relationships between the two peoples.

"What is it you want?" the Klingon asked.

"It is not what I want, Gowron, but what I must tell you. The Sword of Kahless has been found. And it is in the possession of the Chosen One."

"What! You cannot be serious. The Sword has not been seen in twenty generations!"

Worf joined in the conversation. "But it has been seen in this one, Gowron. I have held it in my own hands, seen its power."

"Worf, are you telling me you are the Chosen One? This isn't some ploy to retrieve the honor of the House of Mogh, is it? Besides, your testimony would not be allowed. You know that!"

"I do, but you are not a fool …"

Kim was shocked to see Worf talk so boldly to a head of state; she wondered what the sitch was between these two.

"… And I know that you will listen, even to one who has been discommended, on a matter of such grave importance to the Empire. And, we can offer another witness to the Sword's existence."

"Who?"

"Me, sir," Kim said, after Worf nodded to her.

"And who are you?"

"Lieutenant Kim Possible ... " Kim answered.

"She is the consort of the Chosen One," Worf interjected.

"You are telling me that the Chosen One has picked a human …" Gowron asked, his words dripping with disgust, his wild eyes seeming especially crazed, "… as his mate?"

"I am afraid, Chancellor, that the Chosen One is a human," Picard said.

Gowron glowered. "I will see this Chosen One and this Sword for myself. We will rendezvous in two days' time at Khitomer."

"I will need to clear that with my superiors, Chancellor," Picard said.

"I suspect that they will agree when you tell them I want this," the Klingon said.

"I suspect you are right, Gowron. Picard out."

Picard let out a deep sigh, then looked at Kim and Worf.

"_Consort_, Lieutenant Worf?" the captain wondered.

"Lieutenant Possible is his mate, sir …" Worf said.

"Lieutenant?" Picard asked.

Kim had not thought of things in these terms before now. "Well, uh, Ron is my best friend, and he is now my boyfriend, and we are pretty serious about things, but it's not as if we've set a date, though we both expect to at some point …" Kim's head was beginning to hurt. "Sir, this is all so ferociously awk-weird," she admitted.

"Awk-weird? Yes, that seems to sum it up well, Lieutenant. I suggest that you and Mr. Stoppable talk about this as soon as possible. Then you can brief me on your conversation so I can decide how we should proceed with Gowron. I, in the meantime, must go to my dinner with the admiral." Picard got up and straightened his tunic, then looked at Kim. "I do hope that Mr. Stoppable's cooking is as good as advertised, Lieutenant. Otherwise, we may all want to return to _Qo'noS_ with the Chancellor."

XIV.

"This really was superb, Captain. I may have to have your cook reassigned to Starbase 112," the admiral said.

"I hate to disappoint you," Picard said disingenuously, "but that is not possible. Our ship's cook actually died earlier today; your dinner was prepared by a civilian who is visiting with us."

"You lead a charmed existence, Captain Picard," the admiral observed in a less than friendly manner. "Let's turn to business, if we may.

"As you know, Starfleet has become increasingly concerned about the activities of the Orion Syndicate. The Federation Council has decided to take action."

"That is welcome news, Admiral. The Syndicate is a cancer on the Alpha Quadrant," Picard said.

"Yes, it is. However, the Council has decided that at this time it is a cancer they are not prepared to excise. There are elements in the diplomatic corps who believe that we would be better off winning over the Orionisi as friends, instead of further antagonizing them. The Romulans have been increasingly belligerent lately, as have the Cardassians. And there are questions about the long-term durability of the alliance with the Klingons, should Gowron fall from power.

"The Federation Council has authorized negotiations to … normalize … relations with the Syndicate, which will be held on board _Enterprise_, since it is the Federation flagship."

"I see," Picard said, distinctly unhappy about this news; he couldn't have been less pleased if he was told his ship was about to become a space-borne bordello.

"We will rendezvous with _Jumper_ tomorrow at which time the Federation representative will come on board," Nechayev said.

"And who might that be?" Picard asked.

"Lord Fiske," Nechayev replied.

"The archaeologist?"

"Yes, Captain. Lord Montgomery Fiske. Noted archaeologist and collector of antiquities, English nobleman, galaxy-class eccentric, and highly-placed, well-connected Federation diplomat. Make sure he is assigned the best quarters you have."

"I will, Admiral," Picard assured her as he poured her some coffee. He then proceeded to brief her on the conversation with Chancellor Gowron and the developments regarding the Sword of Kahless and the Chosen One.

"Well, I see no reason to disappoint the Chancellor, Captain, especially since you are the Arbiter of Succession. Please let Mr. Stoppable know that I would like to meet with him tomorrow; I want to make sure he appreciates the gravity of the situation."

"I do not think you will need to worry about that, Admiral. He has proven himself to be a very resourceful young man. And Lieutenant Possible is going to discuss the matter with him tonight."

"Ah yes, Lieutenant Possible. It seems your security officer made her mark on Ras T'klar. I learned just before beaming over to _Enterprise_ that the T'klarians have formally requested her extradition. They claim she used directed-energy weapons on the planet; the Ferengi trader whose facilities were upended during Lieutenant Possible's mission has said he is willing to testify to that fact."

"That is outrageous! I must protest!" Picard said heatedly. "You have read the lieutenant's and Mr. Stoppable's reports. She is not guilty of any crime."

"I know that, Captain. I know that," Nechayev responded, trying to placate Picard. "I have no intention of turning her over to them. However, I must do something to show we acknowledge their displeasure, lest they proscribe Federation citizens from their world. I have decided to void Possible's promotion and return her to the rank of ensign. I am also suspending her from the investigation and placing Mr. Du in charge."

"Admiral …" Picard said, his anger barely contained.

"Captain, my mind is made up. We will inform her before the briefing tomorrow morning," Nechayev said, getting up from her chair. "Thank you for a splendid meal. Perhaps you could ask your visiting cook if he would be willing to prepare meals for the Ambassador and the Orionisi representatives?"

"Yes, I can. Tell me though, Admiral," he snorted, "should I do that before or after I tell his girlfriend about her demotion?"

Nechayev was surprised, if only momentarily. "That's your decision, Captain. It is one of the privileges of command."

XV.

Ron had just finished cleaning up after preparing dinner for Picard and Nechayev. He was gratified by what the stewards had relayed from the two senior officers. He knew he had two very satisfied diners on his hands. Coupled with Riker's introduction of the idea of Ron staying on board _Enterprise_ as the Ship's Chef (Ron had already made it clear he was not a _cook _but a _chef_ and the Executive Officer agreed to that change in nomenclature should Ron join the crew), Ron was viewing the evening as a success. The idea that he could stay on board and be with Kim made him feel like a million bars of gold-pressed latinum; that would have been true even if they were still 'just' best friends. But now that they had taken their relationship to a new level, he couldn't have been happier. The night's developments – along with the time he had spent with Kim earlier that afternoon – made Ron feel that he could actually manage the horrible injuries he'd suffered.

He turned out the lights in the revamped galley – what could be his galley – and walked into the quiet corridor. There were few officers and crew afoot at this hour; despite the fact that _Enterprise_ functioned 24 hours a day, the majority of those aboard adhered to a traditional Earth day, waking in the ship's morning and retiring for the evening when ship's night came. Ron was looking forward to seeing Kim, to hearing about the reception she had attended and to telling her more about the idea that Commander Riker had floated.

XVI.

Kim had left the reception in Ten Forward and headed to Security to do some more work in anticipation of the meeting with Admiral Nechayev and Will Du the next morning. She had a bad feeling about the GJ agent, suspecting he would try to make her look bad. She knew that was somewhat paranoid, but the presence of Bonnie Rockwaller on board had resurrected memories of all sorts of juvenile one-upmanship.

After spending some time reviewing her files on the Array case, Kim decided to call it a night and left the office. She had been looking forward to seeing Ron after a very full evening. She knew she had to talk with him about the conversation with the Klingon High Chancellor. And she wanted to dish about the appearance of Bonnie Rockwaller on board ship. Kim was lost in thoughts of Ron giving her one of his spankin' foot massages when the turbolift doors opened; Kim found herself looking at Tom Carter

"Kim!" he said a bit boisterously as he joined her.

"Hello, Tom," she said politely. She so did not want to chit-chat with her former boyfriend.

"So, you're looking good," Carter said, slightly slurring his words.

That surprised Kim. _Has Tom been drinking?_ she wondered. "Thank you," she replied. "Ron's been feeding me well."

Tom snorted.

"Look, Kim, I'm going to be honest with you. I miss you. I still think we had something really good, something we should start up again."

"Hello, Tom! Have you been in suspended animation the last few days? Haven't you heard what happened with Ron and me?"

"All I've heard is that he had a stupid idea to go on some mission that almost got the two of you killed and that he's been disfigured. You're not really planning on staying with him, are you?"

"Well, duh, yes! I love him!" she replied angrily.

Carter felt like he'd been slapped across the face.

"You can't love him. Not after a week … He's a … loser"

"Tom Carter, Ron is NOT a loser and I so don't need to justify myself to you!" Kim snapped.

"Kim … " he said pleadingly. Her back was now to the wall of the turbolift and Tom was standing in front of her. She quickly began surveying her options, even though she didn't expect Tom to try to hurt her. "Don't you understand? I love you!" With that he caught Kim by surprise, grasping her arms and kissing her.

Kim was stunned.

She tried unsuccessfully to push off Tom. When that didn't work, she decided to do something more forceful. She had just positioned her leg between Carter's so she could knee him in the groin when the doors to turbolift opened.

Kim looked out and saw the last person she wanted to see at the moment. Ron.

_

* * *

TBC … _


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks to campy, captainkodak1, Zaratan, Commander Argus, ComputerSherpa, Shinriko, mattb3671, duckman12, Uru Baen, JPMod, daywalkr82, Classic Cowboy, CajunBear73, calamite, Yuri Sisteble, whitem, TexasDad, Emerald Dark Knight, Louis Mielke, surforst, JMAN2.0, Goinghome, spectre666, Jason Barnett, Markv1.0, Seamus Dubh, IncrediRaider8, momike, Darkcloud1, Ezbok,58a, TAZER ZERO, Skyagent, Wanderer3, MichaelCross, Matri, conan98002, zipporahvulcan, The Halfa Wannabe, Taechunsa, Brother to Vorlons, teddybear-514, vanillalilies, jasminevr, Slyfer, Josh84, and strength-91-possibility-none for reviewing and to everyone else for reading.

Write a review, get a personal response from Rufus! Well, how about one from a guy who once shared an elevator with Rufus? Okay, how about from someone who has seen Rufus on TV …

Thanks, as always, to campy for his beta and proofreading assistance. As a sign of my gratitude, no disgusting alien food products are on their way to him this week.

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney. If you saw it on _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I.

To say Jean-Luc Picard was displeased would have been a gross understatement. He believed that a grave injustice was being done to the soon-to-be-demoted Kim Possible. He had been a senior Starfleet officer for more than three decades, involved in high politics and low intrigue, and knew when someone was being offered up on the altar of expediency.

That night, Kim Possible was the designated offering. And Jean-Luc Picard had been told that he was the one to officiate at her sacrifice. He had no choice but to comply with his orders; that was part of the bargain he had struck when he agreed to wear his uniform. But he was determined to do so on his terms.

II.

Kim was horrified. She knew how things must look to Ron. Since Carter was larger and heavier than her and she had limited space in which to work, she had decided a knee to the groin would be her best option to get free of him. Kim had just positioned her leg between Carter's and was about to strike when the turbolift doors opened. When she saw Ron, she froze and stopped moving her leg. Instead of looking like she was in the process of kneeing her unwanted suitor, she appeared to be quite intimate with her handsome ex-boyfriend. To Ron, she realized, her act of self-defense must have looked like something totally different.

For the briefest of moments their eyes had locked. Kim had never seen so much pain, so much sense of betrayal, in one person's expression. Her anger with Carter flared and she drove up her knee with ferocity. But it was too late. By the time she had struck and connected with Carter's privates, Ron had already turned and begun shuffling away and the doors to the turbolift had slid closed. She didn't even have a chance to call after him.

"Kim …" Tom groaned, dropping to the deck, clutching his injured manhood.

"If you ever come near me again," she snarled, "I so promise you I'll show you what it's like to be on the receiving end of sixteen kinds of kung fu. And that's before I shove you out an airlock. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes …" the suddenly sober and frightened officer whimpered.

"STOP!" Kim ordered the lift. "Return to Deck Eight."

The turbolift reversed direction and returned Kim to the galley level. She didn't even look at Carter, still curled up on the turbolift deck, as she bolted from the elevator and ran down the corridor hoping to find Ron. He wasn't in the galley.

She found another turbolift and headed to Deck Six and Ron's quarters. Once she arrived, she pressed the chime button.

There was no answer.

She pressed the button a second time, and there was still no answer. Kim did this two more times, before she slapped her comm badge. "Computer, where is Ron Stoppable?"

"Ron Stoppable is in his quarters."

Kim bit her lip. She rang the bell a few more times, then banged on the door. "Come on, Ron. It's me, Kim. Please, we have to talk. It wasn't what you think it was!"

Ron didn't respond. Kim knew she couldn't let him go to sleep thinking she had cheated on him; she knew he was still fragile in the wake of the incident on the moon's surface. She used her security clearance to access the override and opened the door.

Kim entered Ron's quarters. "Ron? Ron, where are you?" she asked, before she noticed his comm badge sitting on the table. "Snap," Kim swore, knowing that Ron could now go anywhere he wished on the ship without being detected. She sighed, then decided to be logical about the search. _Where would Ron go?_ she asked herself. _Ten Forward!_

Kim left Ron's quarters, darted to the turbolift and headed to Ten Forward. She entered the rec space and looked around, disappointed to not see Ron.

Guinan saw Kim.

"You looking for something, Possible?"

"Ron!" an agitated Kim exclaimed. "Have you seen him?"

"Sorry, not tonight. Problem?"

Kim sagged. "Major." She explained what happened.

"Okay, let's split up and look for him."

"Guinan …"

"It's a big ship, Kim. And to be honest, right now it might even be better if I were the one to find him. I'm not sure he's going to want to talk to you."

"This is so ferociously unfair," Kim protested.

"Life's unfair, Kim. And the – hmm, what did I once hear it called back on Earth? … ah, yes – the Food Chain casts a long shadow."

"What are you talking about?" Kim asked.

"Kim, you think one week of intimacy, adventure, and shared danger is going to undo all the memories Ron has of your always being interested in someone else, and never him? Of his thinking he had a snowball's chance with you back when he first wanted to be with you?"

"Well …"

"Kim, put yourself in his shoes. Really put yourself there. Take that history and add in his injuries. Would you act differently?"

"Probably not," she conceded, feeling deflated.

"I don't doubt how you feel about him now, Kim, but I don't have the history to overcome or the insecurities to battle that he has. You've got to remember that, be patient with him, and not give up."

"I will and I won't, Guinan. I promise."

"Good. Now let's go find Stoppable."

Kim's comm badge chirped; she sighed. "Possible here."

"Lieutenant, this is the captain, would you please come to my quarters?" he asked.

Kim and Guinan shot each other glances; they were both curious about the captain's request.

"Yes, sir. I'm on my way. Possible out." Kim said, pressing the device. "This night just can't get any worse," she grumbled.

"You go talk to Picard," Guinan said. "I'll find Stoppable and straighten things out."

III.

After the reception, Bonnie Rockwaller had gone to her quarters. She soon found herself bored and decided to do some exploring; she'd heard about _Enterprise_'s botanical garden and thought that would be something to see.

She pressed the button for the turbolift; a few moments later, the doors slid open.

"Ohmigosh!" she exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

The handsome young officer sitting on the floor with his back to the wall looked up at Bonnie.

_Well, no time like the present to move on. Besides, what are the odds that this one will be able to beat me up?_ Tom Carter thought.

"Had a run-in with one of my fellow officers. She's a little bit …" he said, tapping the side of his head.

Bonnie entered the turbolift and knelt beside Tom. "Here, let me help you …"

IV.

"Okay, so where are we?" Guinan asked as she walked onto the holodeck.

"Go away," Ron muttered.

"Don't think so. You know, I always like to try a new place. Hmm. Chimerito combo. Sounds good. I think I'll have one of those," she said to the computer-generated counterman. Once her order was ready, Guinan took her tray and sat down in the booth opposite Ron.

"So, tell me about Bueno Nacho. This does not seem like the kind of food a top chef would eat."

"Yeah, well, there's a lot you don't know about Ron 'Loser' Stoppable."

"Okay, have it your way. I'm sure there is. So why here?"

"I dunno."

"Try again, Stoppable. You can do better."

"Because I used to be happy when I came here, when we –" Ron slumped down into his seat and sighed. "Guinan, she cheated on me. She said she wouldn't dump me and then she did!"

"Did she?"

"I saw her making out with Carter in the turbolift," Ron said, his voice anguished.

"Really? Did you ask her what happened?" Guinan asked.

"What's to ask? The door opened and she was up close and personal with Pretty Boy." Ron dropped his head down onto his folded arms. "My life so stinks."

"Let's try this version of events, Stoppable. Possible's riding the turbolift. Tom Carter, who I shouldn't have let try alcohol earlier tonight, steps on. He begins to tell Possible how he feels about her. She responds by telling him how she feels about you. He's not listening. A bit tipsy, he goes in for the kiss, catching Possible off guard. As fate would have it, the door opens and you're there. You think she's getting all tangled up with him when in reality she's getting ready to put him out of commission. Next thing you know, you're devastated; Carter's a falsetto and terrified because Possible has told him in no uncertain terms how bad she'll hurt him if he so much as says 'boo' to her again; she's frantically searching the ship to find you but, just to make things fun, gets a call from the captain; and I'm sitting in a funky Earth fast food joint."

"You expect me to believe that?" Ron replied, wanting to challenge Guinan, but knowing in his gut that she was telling the truth – and that he'd thus been grossly unfair to Kim.

"You expect me to believe you've got a magic sword that happened to belong to Kahless the Unforgettable?" Guinan asked with a mischievous grin.

"Touché," Ron said, dropping his head into his hands. "Great, Kim's gonna hate me."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't believe her. Because I believed she would cheat on me. What kind of relationship can we have if I don't trust her?"

"Stoppable, as Possible would say, amp down the melodrama. You two have been through a lot the past few days; you need to cut each other some slack. She knows what you're going through. And she sees your insecurities; she knows she's even contributed to some of them, even if unintentionally. But you've got to make a choice about those fears. Someday you're going to beat them back or you're going to let them control you. It's your call. All I know is that you've got one beautiful woman out there who loves you. This isn't high school; this is the big leagues. It doesn't matter if you're not the smartest or the best looking, Stoppable. She. Loves. You. Got it? For whatever reason, you're the guy who makes Kim Possible happy. You want my advice? Run with it. You let her go, then you really are a loser." Guinan got up. "By the way, this was good. Next time though, I'll definitely have to grande size the chimerito. Good night."

The bartender left Ron alone with his thoughts.

V.

"Please, have a seat, Lieutenant," Picard said after Kim had entered his quarters. "May I offer you a drink? My brother Robert recently sent me a Sauterne from the family vineyard that I've been wanting to try."

Kim didn't know what this was all about, but decided to play along; she knew that the captain wasn't prone to inviting junior officers to his quarters and she knew he wasn't going to hit on her.

"Thank you, sir. That would be nice," she said as she took a seat, trying to look interested and engaged, even though what she really wanted to do was find Ron.

"I thought you might like to know that Mr. Stoppable made us an excellent meal. The admiral was most impressed," Picard said. "Commander Riker has told me about Ron's … availability. I can't begin to tell you what an asset it would be to have a chef of his caliber on board. Do you think he would accept a position aboard _Enterprise_? If so, I would like to have Mr. Riker talk with him about specifics."

Kim couldn't help but sag. "Right now, sir, I suspect _Enterprise_ is the last place he wants to be."

"Really?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes," Kim replied before explaining what had happened on the turbolift.

Picard's brow furrowed. He was very unhappy to learn that one of his officers had acted in such a manner. "Will you be filing a report?" he asked.

"I don't know, sir. To be honest, I don't care about Tom. I'm just worried about Ron. We had a couple of wonderful days and then everything bad that could possibly happen to him has happened to him the past few days … he so doesn't deserve this."

"Kim," Picard said, "if I can say anything to him, please let me know."

"Thank you, sir," she replied.

"I know you have a lot on your mind, and under other circumstances, I would tell you to go find Ron right now. But I called you here for a reason. I considered waiting until the morning, but I decided you needed to know now so the decks can be clear for tomorrow." Picard took a deep breath. "Admiral Nechayev informed me that the T'klarians have filed a request for your extradition in connection with the attack on Bunt …" Picard could not help but see the shocked look on Kim's face. "… That request has been rejected. However, the Admiral believes that a gesture must be made to appease the T'klarians and has decided that you are to be reduced in rank to ensign and removed from the investigation."

Kim was stunned. She'd been … broken. Her career in Starfleet was essentially finished.

"I must tell you," Picard said, not fully successful at hiding the anger in his voice, "that I feel that this is one of the greatest injustices that I have ever witnessed in more than thirty years as a serving officer."

"Thank you, sir," Kim said, barely audible, as she reeled from her captain's news. His sympathy was welcome, but didn't change the fact that her career was over.

"Ensign, effective immediately, I am transferring you from Security to the Command Staff. Since I believe that every good captain should have experience at the helm of a capital ship, you will report for duty on the bridge at 0800 hours tomorrow at which time you will assume your new role as helmsman of _Enterprise_. I will look forward to seeing you at your new station. Further, as captain, I have the right to appoint an aide-de-camp to assist me in various activities; I will note in my log that you have been appointed to that position."

"Sir?" Kim asked, confused by the sudden turn in her fortunes.

"I will be damned if Starfleet is going to sacrifice you because it is the convenient thing to do. You did excellent work, indeed, you broke this case open. You will be not be penalized. And if you are to be denied your rank, then I am going to compensate for that in a way that communicates to both the crew and the admiral that you retain my full confidence. Besides, I believe you have shown yourself ready for these new duties." Picard looked at the young officer, then let a playful look come over this face. "I would remind you, Ensign, that you will need to trade in that gold uniform for a red one."

"Thank you, sir," Kim said, barely maintaining her composure. Though she may have been reduced in rank, Picard had effectively handed her a promotion.

"Do not thank me yet. I do not imagine Admiral Nechayev will be happy with these developments.

"Now, I know you want to look for Ron …" the captain said, causing Kim to redden "… but there are a number of matters we must discuss, including our rendezvous with Chancellor Gowron, that directly involve Ron, not to mention the impending arrival of Ambassador Fiske, for whom we will be having a full-dress reception tomorrow evening …"

VI.

Kim had just left Picard's quarters when her badge chirped.

"Possible here," she said.

"It's Guinan. I think you'll find someone you want to talk to in Bueno Nacho on Holodeck Four."

"Thanks, Guinan," Kim said as she broke into a trot heading to the turbolift. "You rock!"

VII.

"Ron?" Kim asked, walking onto the holodeck.

"Hey, KP," Ron replied awkwardly as he looked up at her.

Kim slid in beside him in the booth and threw her arms around him; he returned her embrace. She had much to discuss with him, but at the moment Klingons, admirals, demotions, postings to _Enterprise_ and other such things paled in importance to making sure all was right between her and her best-friend-boyfriend.

"Sorry for being such a jerk," he said.

"Ron, it's okay," Kim said soothingly.

"No, it's not okay. I didn't trust you. I didn't let you tell me your side of the story. I just assumed …"

"Ron, I'm not going to say I'm pleased that you actually believed I'd cheat on you like that, but I know what you saw. And I do have my hottie history to live down. I just wish I could make you believe me when I say I love you." She gave him a tender kiss, then smiled. "I guess I'll just have to keep on trying to get that through that nacho-clogged brain of yours."

Ron couldn't help but offer Kim a small goofy grin. "Yeah, well, I think I actually know you love me, though I'm cool with you reminding me." He sat quietly for a moment, then turned serious. "It's just that I'm scared, KP. This just seems too good to be true. Ya know, the loser usually doesn't wind up with the head cheerleader."

"Then it's a good thing you're not a loser …"

Ron began to protest.

"Nuh uh. You're not now, nor were you ever, a loser. Different, yes. A loser, no." Kim gazed into Ron's eye and gently caressed his cheek. "Would you humor me and close your eye for a few minutes?"

"Uh, okay …" Ron agreed.

Ron did as Kim requested. Then she got up, spoke softly into the holodeck controls, and watched as a new set of clothes materialized. She quickly took off her uniform and changed into the new outfit. Then she returned to Ron.

"You can look now," she said.

Ron did, and gawped.

"Losers don't get invited to be head chef on _Galaxy_-class starships," Kim said, sliding in by her boyfriend. "And losers, according to you, don't date head cheerleaders," she purred, knowing, thanks to his earlier confession, just how much he liked what she was now wearing – a New Middleton Cheer Squad uniform.

"Geez, KP, you don't play fair," Ron said.

"That's right, Ron. I play to win," she replied with a grin.

They kissed for a while, then pulled apart. "So, how was your evening, other than your run-in with Pretty Boy?" Ron finally asked.

Kim frowned, then told Ron about everything that happened, from the reception to the visit with Picard. He was in turn apprehensive (Bonnie, Du, Fiske), furious (Nechayev, Starfleet brass hats), and intrigued (Gowron, Picard's enthusiasm about having Ron staying on board as ship's chef and his desire to have Ron attend the briefing, Kim's new assignments).

When she told him about Nechayev's decision, Ron yelled, "They cannot do that to Ron Stoppable's girlfriend!" leading Kim to smile; she was pleased that Ron seemed to say that without any reservations or doubt.

"Ron, it will be okay. It's so not the drama …"

Ron eyed Kim skeptically.

"… okay," she conceded. "It is the drama. But the switch to the command staff and being made the captain's ADC is pretty spankin'. I may have a lower rank, but I've got a much bigger job. And while I'm not happy about being taken off the investigation, I wasn't looking forward to working with that GJ agent anyway. One briefing tomorrow and then I can focus on being the new helmsman of _Enterprise_ …"

"And you can celebrate by doing a barrel roll! That would be soooo cool, KP!" Ron enthused.

"Ron, I am NOT going to do a barrel roll my first day piloting this ship!"

"Aww man," he whined before smiling wickedly. "Think you might do one in bed?"

Kim arched an eyebrow. "You'll just have to wait and see …"

"Booyah!" Ron responded. "I'm ready!"

"I can see you are," she said, cocking an eyebrow before turning serious. "Ron, about Admiral Nechayev …"

Ron caught the tone of her voice. "What up, KP?" he asked.

Kim returned to the subject of the impending visit by Gowron and Nechayev's desire to meet with Ron before that occurred. She also mentioned Nechayev's hope that Ron might be willing to serve as chef for the Fiske and Orionisi dinners.

"Let's see if I get this straight. The lady busts my girlfriend and then asks me for a favor?"

"That's about it, Ron," Kim said before taking a deep breath. "Ron, I need you to do this. It's important to Starfleet. Please make the dinner – and when you talk to her about Gowron, try not to take off her head. I can see how tweaked you are – it's actually very sweet – but it won't help me – or Captain Picard, who's going out on a limb for me."

Ron looked at Kim, smiled, then shook his head. "You really dig being in Starfleet, don't you?"

"Yes, Ron, I do. It means everything to me. Correct that. After you it means everything to me."

"Okay, KP, I'll do it."

"You rock, Ron," she said, standing up and heading to the door. Ron began to follow her.

"Just wait there," she asked. "Computer, I need visual and keyboard access to my personal files again, please and thank you."

A keyboard and monitor appeared. Kim scanned the monitor, grinned, then began typing.

Kim and Ron watched as Bueno Nacho dissolved and was replaced by the gym at New Middleton High School.

Ron was shocked. "Uh, KP… how?"

"Anything's possible for a Possible, Ron," she said coyly, not feeling a need to tell him that she'd accessed her holographic photo album, which contained a picture taken of the cheer squad at a home competition. The image provided the computer with sufficient information to create her uniform and the New Middleton high school gym.

"So, Ron," Kim said seductively, coming back to her boyfriend. "I never actually fooled around with anybody under the bleachers. Want to give it a try?"

Ron just stared at Kim, wondering how he could have been such an idiot earlier in the evening. He gave her a huge grin, took her hands in his, and said, "KP, I'm all about trying new things!"

VIII.

Yori sat alone on her bed in the quarters she shared with Kim; she knew that her roommate would not be returning that night. Kim had not slept in her own bed since the night she and Ron became a couple.

Yori stretched out her legs and pulled out a book padd. She was re-reading _The Tale of Genji_ when the door chime beeped. _That is odd_, she thought. _Who would be calling at this hour?_

"Come in," she called out, curious as to the identity of her visitor.

The door opened and a swarthy if well-groomed man in his mid to late twenties entered.

"Good evening, Ensign," he said. "My name is Will Du. Mr. Stone suggested I introduce myself …"

Yori became very alert at the mention of Stone's name. It meant only one thing: Will Du, like Yori, was a part of Starfleet's super-secret Section 31.

"I see," she replied. "Perhaps we should talk elsewhere," Yori suggested. "I do share these quarters."

"That will not be necessary. My specially modified tricorder issued only to top GJ/Section 31 agents indicates that your roommate is otherwise occupied on Holodeck Four and, I suspect, will continue her activities well into the night …"

Yori refrained from flinching at the clinically cool yet adolescently prurient way Will said that; she did not need more time to decide that her visitor would be trouble.

IX.

While Kim and Ron did things beneath the facsimile New Middleton High School gym bleachers that would have given Steve Barkin apoplexy, Yori and Will warily took one another's measure, and Bonnie helped Tom 'move on,' Shego was on her way to a remote research facility located near the Romulan Neutral Zone and a date with half of a Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer.

X.

"KP, is this really necessary?" Ron whined.

"Ron, don't be a baby. Now let me straighten your collar for you."

Ron had reluctantly gotten out of bed with Kim at 0555; that turned out to be a good thing since it allowed them to spend some time together before a very full day began.

Kim was determined that Ron was going to look his best for the meeting with Admiral Nechayev and the subsequent briefing about the investigation. He was also supposed to meet with Commander Riker, who had left a message about his desire to talk that morning about the details of Ron's potentially permanently staying on board.

She also wanted Ron to look his best should he run into Bonnie. She didn't trust their old high school classmate to not say hurtful things to him; Kim believed Bonnie would be less likely to step out of bounds if Ron was dressed his best.

Kim stood back and admired her handiwork. "You look very dashing, Ron," she purred.

"Sha," he said waving his hand. "You say that to all the guys with eye patches," he added with a grin.

Kim smiled as Ron joked, then retorted, "I so do not, Ron. Only to the guys with eye patches and freckles and a thing for Tex-Mex."

Despite all that was going on in their suddenly topsy-turvy, turmoil-filled lives, Kim and Ron felt relaxed and happy. They had gone to bed realizing they had turned yet another corner the previous evening. Their relationship had been deepened and strengthened in ways neither would have imagined since the mission to Ras T'klar. Each supported and encouraged the other as they were simultaneously confronted with serious and unexpected challenges. Kim and Ron now felt that, together, they could do anything.

"Well, I must admit I'm all about you having a thing for guys with eye patches, freckles and a love of Tex-Mex!" Ron said as he pulled Kim close to him.

"Ron! You'll muss up your clothes!" Kim protested.

"Don't care, Kimbo. I find you irresistible in that red uniform. All it needs is some more of those pip thingies and it would be perfect."

Kim gave up and threw her arms around Ron's neck. "You're incorrigible, Ron Stoppable, did you know that?"

"I did indeed, KP. And I'm a bad boy, too!"

XI.

The turbolift doors opened and Kim strode confidently onto the bridge, masking her nervousness as she arrived to assume her new post. Kim had been on board _Enterprise_ long enough to know that word of her demotion in rank and promotion in duties would spread very quickly throughout the ship. Whether she would be treated as a has-been being given a consolation prize until she left Starfleet or an up-and-comer unjustly deprived of rank because of politics remained to be seen.

Worf turned and looked at his former security officer. "Congratulations on your promotion. It is well deserved," the Klingon said, loudly enough so that everyone on the bridge knew how Kim's former superior officer (as a member of the bridge crew, she would now report directly to Riker) felt about the matter.

"Thank you, sir," Kim replied, grateful for Worf's public show of support.

She passed her old station, continued down the ramp, and presented herself at the trio of seats at the center of the bridge. Picard, Riker, and Troi were all present – and smiling.

"Good morning, Ensign," the captain said. "Are you ready to assume your new post?"

"Yes, sir," Kim answered.

"Very good, then," the captain said, extending his hand in a way that invited, rather than commanded, Kim to seat herself at the helm. Following Picard's lead, Kim headed to the console. As she sat down in the helmsman's chair, she looked over the ops station, which was occupied by Mr. Data.

"Hello, Ensign," the android said, returning her gaze.

"Hello, sir," Kim said, now unable to keep the nervousness out of her voice. Despite the friendly reception from everyone on the bridge, Kim couldn't help but be a bit uneasy. _Enterprise_ had never had a proper helmsman before; the position was usually filled on an ad-hoc basis. By naming Kim to the post, Picard had not only made clear his continued support of her, but had placed a great burden on her shoulders. Kim was not only responsible for piloting the ship, but for keeping track of all of its navigational equipment, maintaining watch over the surrounding space for anything that might affect the ship's voyage, and being familiar with the space they occupied and through which they would travel. Kim had studied the helm before, but now it was hers. As she began reviewing the controls, she knitted her brow in consternation. She suddenly felt boastful as she recalled her old motto, "I can do anything!"

"Ensign," Data said.

"Yes, sir?"

"I … excuse me, I think this would best be done if I were standing," he said as he rose and moved away from his station.

Kim watched Data quizzically, as did most of the bridge crew.

"I have great confidence in your abilities as a helmsman, Ensign, and believe you will do an excellent job piloting _Enterprise_. That is why I call … shotgun," he said as he scrambled back into his seat.

Everyone gawped for what seemed minutes, but was in reality seconds. Riker was the first to begin laughing. Soon everyone else joined in and Kim relaxed.

Data was quite pleased. He had spent all night, much to the annoyance of his cat Spot, practicing that joke.

XII.

"Come," the disembodied voice commanded.

Ron walked through the doors into Alynna Nechayev's quarters. He noticed that they were as spacious as his.

"Thank you for coming to see me, Mr. Stoppable," she said. "May I offer you some coffee?"

"Uh, thanks, that'd be badical," he said. Ron was a mass of warring emotions. He was nervous; Nechayev was, after all, an admiral who could make or break Kim's career. He remained angry; he thought that Nechayev had unfairly punished Kim. And he was confident; Ron knew he had something this woman wanted.

After Nechayev poured the coffee, she sat down on the couch opposite Ron. "Mr. Stoppable, I am going to preface this conversation by saying I suspect you have already taken a dislike to me because of my decision to reduce your girlfriend in rank. That is your prerogative. However, I have a responsibility to Starfleet and the Federation as a whole, a duty that transcends the needs or even welfare of any one individual."

Ron looked skeptically at Nechayev. As far as he was concerned, she was just another bully. "Admiral, let's get something straight. I may be just a chef, and I may not be smart like you, but I'm not totally stupid. You're right – I am angry about your decision. But not because you busted my girlfriend, but because you busted Kim Possible, who is the neatest person on this ship, who loves Starfleet, and works harder and better than you'll ever know."

"Ron …"

"Alynna …" Ron shot back, realizing he was losing his temper, which would anger Kim, but still deriving satisfaction from the woman's reaction to being called by her first name. "Well, since you called me 'Ron,' I assumed you wanted to be on a first-name basis," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Mr. Stoppable," she replied icily, "Kim Possible may be everything you say she is; I, to be honest, am not convinced. I have reviewed her service record. Good, but not brilliant …"

"You haven't seen her the last couple of weeks!" he protested.

"No, I have not. But I work with the totality of information at my disposal. Neither Starfleet nor the Federation will fall if Ensign Possible's career comes to a premature close."

Ron stared at the admiral, who had all but announced her intention to drive Kim out of the service, before speaking, "And you know what, lady? I bet the same could be said about you!"

Nechayev's nostrils flared. If Ron had been a member of Starfleet, he'd be on his way to a court martial. But he was a civilian, a civilian whose assistance she needed, and that changed everything. She took a deep breath. "Perhaps you are right," she eventually conceded. "You, however, are a different matter." Frowning, she continued. "Mr. Stoppable, in less than 36 hours the leader of the Klingon Empire will be coming to see you. This visit could have tremendous implications for the future of the entire Federation. I don't know if you quite understand that."

"Admiral, I may have mastered the art of the gentleman's C in school, but I've worked in a restaurant filled with diplomat-type guys for a year …"

"This isn't the same …" she interjected.

"Admiral, Admiral, Admiral," Ron said as if talking to a slow child. "That is where you are wrong. The people who come in to Mistral think they are the most important people in the galaxy and expect to be treated that way. I learned that very quickly. The only difference here is that this Gowron guy actually is the most important person in the galaxy, or at least one of the top five. He's going to be kind of big-heady …"

Nachayev, despite herself, smiled at the double entendre.

"… and he's going to wonder what a scrawny dude like me is doing with the magic sword, am I right so far?"

Nechayev nodded.

"See? It's not a complete vacuum up here," Ron said, tapping his head. "It'll be cool, Admiral. I've been hanging with Worf. And Q told me to think Klingon. Don't know what he meant, but I'll try, okay? I'm not going to embarrass anyone. KP would kill me."

Nechayev looked at Ron knowing there was nothing more she could say or do at this point, other than hope that this odd chef could somehow hold his own with the leader of one hundred and sixty-five billion sentient beings.

XIII.

Bonnie rolled over and looked at the man who was sharing her bed.

"So, who's better?" Bonnie asked.

"What?" he asked, surprised.

"Me or Kim? Who's better in bed?"

Tom arched an eyebrow. "What, is this about you and her?"

"No," Bonnie purred, swinging her leg over the lieutenant. "It's about you and me. I'm just surprised you could date K for so long. She is so lame."

Tom Carter let the dig at Kim pass unchallenged. The combination of being dumped for Ron and then being kneed by her had turned him against her. Further, Bonnie did the first night what Kim had resolutely refused to do with Tom the entire time they had dated. At that moment, Tom was feeling disposed to agree with her. "Yeah, I guess she is."

"So, what are you going to do about last night in the turbolift?"

"Do? How about stay away from her so she doesn't go after me again!"

"I think you should file a report," Bonnie suggested, trying her best to look helpful.

"Hmmm," Tom said, looking at her. "You know, that's an interesting idea."

"Stick with me and you'll learn that I have lots of interesting ideas," she purred as she leaned in to kiss him.

XIV.

Nechayev and Ron talked a bit longer. She told him how she appreciated the meal he had made, then asked if he would be willing to serve as chef for the upcoming visits of Fiske and the Orionisi. Ron said he would, making it clear he was doing this as a favor to Kim and his friends on _Enterprise_. They concluded their meeting and headed for the observation lounge and the briefing on the investigation.

As they exited the turbolift to the bridge, Ron saw the back of Kim's head and smiled. _She's actually flying this thing_, he thought. _That is soooo cool!_

Nachayev's reaction was less than enthusiastic; she immediately understood the implications of Kim wearing a red command uniform and serving as helmsman: Picard had done an end-run around her and the admiral was none too pleased.

"Captain," she said curtly as she descended the ramp with Ron in tow.

"Admiral, good morning," Picard replied as he stood in the presence of his senior officer. "Number One, you have the bridge."

"Yes, sir," the executive officer said.

Nechayev, who began heading to the observation lounge, stopped dead in her tracks when she heard Picard say, "Mr. Worf, Ensign Possible, if you will join us …"

"Captain," she said, as she spun around, "I will see you in your ready room, now."

The admiral stalked to Picard's sanctuary, with him following in her wake. Everybody, save Ron, was wearing a poker face; he gawped.

Nechayev lost no time when the doors slid shut behind Picard. "I specifically ordered you to take Ensign Possible off of the investigation. You know that her involvement will only antagonize the T'klarians. Further, we now have more experienced personnel to handle the matter."

"Admiral, I have complied with your order. Ensign Possible is joining us for the briefing in her capacity as my ADC."

Nechayev, her face impassive, looked hard at _Enterprise_'s commander. "Captain Picard, you are a very clever man. Very few men could have taken an officer's demotion and found a way to turn it into an opportunity for career advancement. That was truly inspired," she said acidly.

"Admiral, I do not see why Ensign Possible's career should be needlessly sacrificed."

"Captain, you have been involved in enough diplomatic activity over the years to know matters are not that simple."

"And I have been involved in enough such activity to know when one must take a stand and do the right thing."

Nechayev looked at Picard through narrowed eyes. "Well, Captain, who you choose to serve as your ADC is your affair. But appointment to helmsman of a _Galaxy_-class starship – and based on the change of uniform, I will assume that her presence at that post was permanent, and not part of a rotation – is a different matter."

"Ensign Possible is a highly rated pilot, Admiral."

"It is one thing to fly a shuttle or occasionally sit at the helm, Captain. It is another matter entirely to pilot the flagship of the Federation. After the briefing I will satisfy myself that Kim Possible is worthy to serve as helmsman of _Enterprise_."

"May I ask, how so?"

"No, you may not, Captain Picard," she said regally. "I will meet you in the observation lounge momentarily. But first I will speak with Mr. Data; please send him in."

XVI.

Shego silently made her way across the plain towards the installation. She had to give the jokers who ran the place credit; they had chosen a perfect location for their labs. The Class-L planet was inhospitable, to say the least, and would prevent most incursions. Fortunately for Shego, her comet powers enabled her to survive in environments that would have killed normal humans.

She briefly thought of her brothers, who had been with her that day when the celestial object had struck. Like her, they too had been changed. But whereas they were trusting, she was not. They had been taken away by Starfleet for "evaluation"; she had not been interested in being a human lab rat and promptly fled their home on Alpha Centauri.

In the years since her departure from the family home she had built herself quite a career as a criminal. She smiled as she thought about Brotherson's inability to comprehend her continued work with Drakken. The mad scientist was annoying, but not a bad guy in his own way. Besides, he paid well and offered great benefits, and he was a good source of long-term employment.

The more Shego had thought about it, the more she was convinced that Drakken would once again find a way to fail. But that was okay, since this time they'd have something incredibly valuable to sell. _Maybe Dr. D will get himself some gene therapy and boost his intelligence; I just want to buy a bigger place on Risa. Heck, _she thought, _if we're successful, I could buy Risa …_

Shego now lay on the ground behind a small outcropping. She pulled out a pair of infrared goggles to survey the terrain. The target was directly ahead; Big Daddy had given her a schematic of the facility that revealed the most promising points of entry. Shego checked her phaser; it was fully charged. Her stolen tricorder was operational. She was ready to move in.

She was dressed in black, her hair tied back. The obsidian surface of the volcanic plain served her purposes well; Shego, like a chameleon, was able to blend into her surroundings. Slowly, she approached the installation. Along the way she disabled various surveillance cameras, using different methods, all designed to resemble a natural systems failure. Finally she reached the outer wall of the research lab. She looked up. Twenty feet. No problem for her. She launched herself up and over the roof. Genetic mutations did have their benefits.

Shego quickly dropped to the surface, then crawled to the ventilation system. She carefully removed the grille – there would be no plasma burns left behind here if she could help it – and slipped in. She carefully made her way through the ducts, following the map on her tricorder display. Shego would have preferred entering the storage room itself, but that wouldn't be possible due to the HVAC/environmental systems layout; she was going to first have to make her way through some corridors. When she reached her entry point, she removed the grille, and gracefully dropped to the floor, landing in a crouch. She looked around. And was shocked.

There were unconscious personnel sprawled on the floor.

_Someone's here_, Shego thought. She withdrew her weapon, ready to use it at a moment's notice. She suspected the other intruder was here seeking the same thing she wanted.

Carefully, with her back to the wall, she made her way to the store room. The door was open.

She pivoted in, holding the phaser in front of her.

"Hands up!" she barked at the figure standing in the middle of the room.

The other person turned his head slowly, then grinned at her.

"If you say so," he replied, slowly raising his hands. Then, moving with a speed Shego found stunning, he launched into a double handspring, landed in front of her and swatted the phaser from her hand. "So, do you come here often?" he asked.

Shego growled. "No. I was just dropping in to make a pick-up."

"That's funny. So was I!" the intruder said impishly. Then, he grabbed her arm, twisted it, and flipped her.

Shego landed on the floor with a thud. She was not happy.

"Maybe they'll make another one of these," the mysterious man said as he began working a key pad. "I've heard that pan-dimensional vortex inducers will be all the rage next season."

Shego growled, then fired up her plasma. She hurled a bolt directly at the figure, who buckled, but did not fall. He turned and looked at her.

"Feisty, aren't you?" he said as he left the panel and approached Shego.

"Feisty?" Shego snapped, annoyed. Kim Possible was feisty! "I prefer dangerous," she said, dropping into a fighting stance.

"Ah, you'd like to play. I'm game!" the intruder said brightly as he responded in kind and assumed a position similar to Shego's. The two figures warily circled one another, each assessing the other.

"Fine, I'll go first," the intruder finally offered as he launched a sweep kick that Shego barely evaded. Her opponent's speed was unnatural. "You have good reflexes," he said.

Shego snarled, spun and kicked. Her opponent dodged her move.

The two of them went at it for some time, both launching attacks at one another, each defying the other. Shego didn't want to admit it, but she was beginning to tire. Finally, her opponent, smiling, retreated, leaned against a wall, and crossed his arms against his chest. "You're very, very good, you know that? I don't think I've ever met anyone who can fight quite like you can."

Shego felt the same way about her opponent. As frustrated as she was, she was also exhilarated. This was the kind of partner she'd always wanted.

"So," he asked. "Tell me your name."

"Shego. What's yours?" she said, looking at her opponent. He was unlike anyone she'd ever met. He seemed to be jaundiced and had strange golden eyes. His longish dark hair was slicked back.

He looked at her, then grinned.

"My name is Lore."

_TBC …_

**Explanatory Note for readers who want to know a little something about Lore:** Data has an older brother, Lore (I am not making this up!). Lore and Data are identical in appearance; but that is where the similarities end. Dr. Soong, the creator of Lore and Data, programmed Lore to have emotions; unfortunately, something went wrong and Lore turned out be five hundred miles of bad road.


	13. Chapter 13

In case you haven't heard, I won two Fannies:'Best Writer' and 'Best Crossover/Fusion' for _KP: TNG_. A special word of **heartfelt thanks to you, my readers**, for your support and votes. Your response to my stories has been tremendous.

Thanks to Commander Argus, Parareru, campy, spectre666, daywalkr82, JPMod, Zaratan, Ezbok58a, mattb3671, William Raymer, suforst, Visigoth29527, whitem, Yuri Sisteble, Ace Ian Combat, JMAN2.0, Brother to Vorlons, Matri, conan98002, momike, TAZER ZERO, Darkcloud1, Supreme Admiral of the Web, MichaelCross, strength-91-possibility-none, SariahSariah, Emerald Dark Knight, TexasDad, anarcrothe, jasminevr, Necrovore, Skyagent, Wanderer3, teddybear-514, IncrediRaider8, Dixon-San, The Halfa Wannabe, Leen1, Chronos the Cat, and Molloy for reviewing and to everyone else for reading.

And, as always, my appreciation to campy for his beta and proofreading services. I've arranged for campy and mrs. campy to enjoy a weekend on Risa, where Ron will prepare their meals. Unfortunately, they have to arrange their own transportation.

Leave a review, get a response. It's fun and it's good for you. Dr. Crusher says so. Really.

**Coming attractions**: _Kim Possible: 1776_ debuts next week!

If you're in the market for some great K/R reads, I have **two recommendations** for you: Check out Commander Argus' _Our Place on the Food Chain_ and its predecessor, _It Finally Happened_. I also encourage you to check out Mattk's _Bleeding Through_ and its predecessors, _Thunderheads on the Horizon_ and _Bleeding Out_.

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; on _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I.

Shego looked at Lore. She'd never met anyone like him before. He was self-assured, relaxed, and he oozed malevolence. Much to her surprise, she felt a strong attraction to him, despite his odd complexion and eyes.

"Lore? That's a dorky name," she observed snidely.

"This is from someone named _Shego_?" he replied with a smirk.

Shego smiled. "Fair 'nuff, Golden Boy. So, tell me, why do you want the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer?"

"I have some scores to settle. You?"

"Galactic domination. Or so my boss hopes," Shego replied, rolling her eyes.

Lore appraised Shego for a moment. "Galactic domination. That sounds intriguing. Though I must say I find the idea of you having a boss rather hard to believe."

Shego snorted. "Okay, _employer_."

Lore laughed. "Well, would you be interested in changing your … employment arrangements?"

Shego looked at Lore with surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Perhaps you'd like to enter into a partnership."

Shego looked thoughtfully at Lore before speaking. "Okay, let's say I were interested. How do I know I could trust you?

Lore laughed again. "Shego, you don't. And you never will. However, if it makes you feel better, I could have already ended your life." He then ripped a panel off the wall, twisted it, then tore it in half as if it were tissue paper.

Shego responded by firing up her plasma. "Well, I could end _yours_ …" she said defiantly.

"Actually, you couldn't," he said matter-of-factly.

"What are you talking about?" Shego asked warily.

"I'm not human. I am an android," he answered. Then, with a leer, he added, "Though I like being with some humans, am programmed in multiple techniques and I _never_ tire …"

For one of the few times in her life, Shego was confused. She was being propositioned by a … robot? Although he was a sentient robot. Who just happened to be dangerously attractive. And something told her he might succeed where Drakken never could.

"Okay, Tin Man, talk …" Shego said.

II.

Kim, Nechayev, Picard, Data, Du, and Ron sat at the table in the Observation Lounge. Kim couldn't help but sense the tension between Picard and Nechayev; it was palpable. While her commanding officer was seated at the head of the table, it was clear to Kim that Nechayev was indulging the captain by letting him sit in his seat. The admiral was the one with ultimate authority, and she wouldn't hesitate to use it.

"Lieutenant Du, would you please give us an update on the investigation to date?" Nechayev asked.

Will Du rose from his seat and approached the view screen that was recessed into the wall behind Picard. "As you all know …" the GJ agent began, before droning on smugly, recounting the chain of events until the present day. "Considering we had amateurs on the case, we are fortunate to know as much as we do."

Kim bristled. She was not an amateur; even if she was now wearing command red, she still took pride in being a trained Starfleet security professional. However, before she could react, Ron spoke.

"Okay, dude, that's it," he said.

Heads snapped around the table, and Kim couldn't help but fear that Ron was going to put his foot into his mouth; he wasn't exactly trained in the niceties of Starfleet S.O.P.

"Here's the lowdown from where I sit. GJ was dead in space until Kim figured out what was going on. It then took me, a _cook_," Ron said that with sarcasm, "to go talk to Mr. Ferengi. So, without Team Possible here, the bad guys would have that verterogenous thingie and none of us would know it."

"Mr. Stoppable," Will Du said, "It is more complex than that ..."

Ron's back stiffened. "Dude, do not talk down to me. I pay your salary." Everyone, with the exception of Kim who now expected this kind of feistiness from her boyfriend and Worf who'd already received this lecture, stared at him. Ron wondered what was wrong with these people. "What, you think money grows on trees? You all live with your Starfleet and GJ credits and forget that people like me still pay taxes."

"Mr. Stoppable," Will said condescendingly, "nobody in the Federation pays taxes."

"Oh sure, they don't call them taxes. They call them 'societal investment contributions.' But the fact is The Man is still taking money out of my pocket to pay _you_." Ron sat back in his chair, feeling satisfied. "And right now, I feel I'm getting a lot more for my money from the people on this ship than from Galactic Justice."

Kim sighed. One part of her wanted to slap Ron, because he'd probably just made things ferociously difficult for her. But another part wanted to kiss him, in gratitude for standing up for her and her crewmates and saying what she wanted to, but could not, say.

"Well, Mr. Stoppable, thank you, thank you very much, for that, uh, civics lesson," Picard finally said as he clasped his hands together before turning to the GJ agent. "So, Mr. Du, how do you suggest we proceed from here?"

The self-assured GJ agent arched an eyebrow. "I will take up the investigation from here. While I cannot imagine that I will need the assistance of either Lieutenant, excuse me, _Ensign_ Possible or Mr. Stoppable going forward, I hope you will make them available to me should that change. I may also wish to call on Mr. Data's assistance in reviewing the evidence that has been gathered to date."

As Picard listened to the junior officer, the captain actually found himself wishing Ron's remarks had been sharper. Picard did not appreciate Du's patronizing, dismissive tone in the least. He was particularly displeased by the crack at Kim's expense. However, Picard knew he needed to be cooperative, especially after he had antagonized Nechayev by naming Kim helmsman. "Of course, Mr. Du. Ensign Possible will be available to you, and I am sure Mr. Stoppable will be willing to help, if asked." Picard looked at Ron as he said that, his expression telling the young man that it would be in Kim's interests for him to play along; Ron nodded his assent.

III.

As Kim exited the Observation Lounge, she noticed Yori at the tactical console. She nodded at her roommate, whom she had barely seen in the days since Ron came on board. As Kim turned to resume her station, she stole a quick glance at her boyfriend, who grinned at her.

"Mr. Data," the admiral said as she took the seat normally occupied by Deanna Troi, who removed herself to the science station, "I will assume you are prepared to begin?"

"Yes, Admiral," the android replied. "The probe is ready to be deployed."

"Good. Proceed," Nechayev replied.

"The probe has been launched."

"Admiral?" Picard asked, wondering what was happening.

Nechayev ignored him and walked up to Kim's station. "Well, Ensign. It's time to see whether you deserve to sit in that chair."

"Yes, sir," Kim replied, not sure what Nechayev had in mind. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ron give her a thumbs-up. It gratified her to know that Ron believed in her, even when he didn't know what she was going to be asked to do.

"Ms. Possible," the admiral said. "I have reviewed your service record. You were on the Nova Squadron at the Academy and twice won the Rigel Cup."

"Yes, sir."

"You also demonstrated proficient piloting skills during your recent adventure on Ras T'klar."

Kim tensed, not liking the way the admiral said 'adventure,' but tamped her anger. "Yes, sir."

"Well, that is all very good. But I would like to see just what you can do at the helm of a real ship. Mr. Data, per my instructions, has launched a probe. You are to maneuver _Enterprise_ within 2000 kilometers of it."

_No big_, Kim thought.

"The probe is one light year away," the admiral continued. "We will approach it at a speed of no less than Warp Two. You will not drop out of warp until we are within 25,000 kilometers of the target."

_Precision navigating. So not the drama,_ Kim told herself.

"During transit," the admiral continued, "you will execute a loop-the-loop and a three-revolution barrel roll. The ship will be under your manual control. From the commencement of the maneuver you will have twenty minutes to reach our destination."

"Did you say …" Picard asked, looking at Nechayev in disbelief. He recalled introducing himself to Riker by having his new executive officer dock the saucer deck with the main hull at warp speed; he had thought that was challenging. But what Nechayev was asking Possible, a much younger pilot with far less experience, to do was mind-boggling. To the best of his knowledge nothing like it had ever been attempted. Picard hated to admit it, but while he was confident Kim would successfully execute the loop, which was itself a difficult enough maneuver, he feared she would blow out of the first roll. "That's —"

"I believe I made myself clear, Captain," Nechayev said icily, as she cut him off. "Ensign, you have five minutes to prepare for the maneuver."

Kim swiveled the chair and stared directly into the admiral's eyes. She knew she was being set up to fail. But she wasn't going to let Nechayev derive any satisfaction from what she was trying to do. With steely resolve, Kim smiled and replied confidently, "Yes, sir." Then she turned to the captain, "Permission to proceed, sir?"

"Yes, Ensign," Picard replied, then looked down at the small screen on the arm of his chair and keyed in a series of commands. "Ms. Possible, I am transferring all command functions to the helm. Good luck."

IV.

Tom Carter had enjoyed a very pleasant evening with Bonnie Rockwaller, who seemed happy to stoke his resentment towards his ex-girlfriend. He couldn't help but feel smug as he thought about what Bonnie told him, in complete confidence of course, as they lay naked, arms and legs entwined after having sex. By now, Kim would have been reduced in rank. _Serves her right,_ he thought bitterly._ She had it good, and wasn't smart enough to know it_.

Tom didn't know whether anything would come of his encounter with the young diplomatic protocol officer, but she was very good in bed; definitely well-connected, which could never hurt; and had a fascinating combination of acidic snarkiness and erotic charm he found strangely appealing. He was flattered when Bonnie asked him to escort her to the reception that was to be held for Ambassador Fiske and quickly accepted her invitation.

The ambitious junior officer was feeling good about the day ahead and was in Cargo Bay Six, waiting for his work team to arrive, when he heard a familiar voice over the intercom.

"_Attention all hands. This is the bridge. Four minutes after my mark we will begin performing a series of high-speed maneuvers that will last 17 minutes. There is the possibility that inertial dampeners may fail. Make sure you are prepared for this contingency. Mark … NOW. Possible out"_

V.

Geordi shook his head in response to the announcement, not knowing what was in store for his ship. He then noticed an incoming message. Kim was copying him on the command sequences she was entering into the helm.

"This is un-be-lievable," he muttered. Geordi looked up from the screen, then turned towards the engine room. "Okay, people, listen up, we may be in for a wild ride …"

VI.

Kim had spent the past four minutes and 22 seconds calculating and inputting the numerous variables she would need to execute the maneuvers. She was as ready as she would ever be. She glanced at the panel and noticed an incoming text message. That surprised her. She retrieved the communication and began to read.

_KP,_

_You can do anything._

_I love you. Ron_

A huge smile spread across Kim's face. _Count on Ron to have my back,_ she thought. Now she was determined to deliver the goods. She had a boyfriend to impress. And he had asked her to do a barrel roll, after all.

Flush with confidence, she stretched out her arms, rolled her head, then spoke in a calm, steady voice. "I am routing all control functions to the helm. Initiating manual override of navigational computer systems … now."

VII.

Ron was sitting on a seat that had emerged from beneath a console; he turned from the keyboard, which he'd used to send the message with Worf's assistance, and faced forward towards the viewscreen – and the back of Kim's head.

Ron had been kidding when he suggested that Kim do a barrel roll; yet now she was about to try it, and a whole lot more. He was incredibly proud of her just for keeping her cool; he was sure he'd be wigging out by now if he were in her shoes. He was also furious with Nechayev, not sure why the woman seemed to enjoy harshing on Kim. To Ron, the admiral was like Steve Barkin, but without the charm.

VIII.

Kim had successfully executed the loop, as Picard expected. He was impressed with the way his new helmsman handled the maneuver. A full loop at Warp 2.3 and the inertial dampeners never showed any sign of stress. The only evidence of what had just happened was what he'd seen on the viewscreen and the telemetry that was being relayed from the ship's external sensors.

Nechayev sat quietly as she watched the incoming data intently.

Ron grinned, resisting the urge to yell "Boo-yah!"

Kim scanned the console, satisfied with her progress.

_Enterprise_'s new pilot looked over to the second officer. "Mr. Data, I am proceeding with the second maneuver. Keep an eye on stress levels on the engine pylons."

"Yes, Ensign," the android replied.

Kim keyed in some commands, then announced, "Warp 2.5 – 2.7 – 2.9 – Warp 3.0 and holding steady."

Picard was impressed. If Ensign Possible was going to fail, she was clearly going to do so on her terms and with flair.

"Initiating first revolution."

Everybody stared at the viewscreen, transfixed, as the stars, which had been gliding past the ship, now also spiraled. And even though the inertial dampeners were still on-line, it was not hard for many of the bridge crew to begin to feel dizzy.

Ron, for one, found himself turning green.

Worf looked at his stricken friend. "It would not be dishonorable to look away."

"Nuh uh," Ron said, clutching his stomach. "I'm not gonna miss KP's big moment."

Worf grunted, impressed by Ron's commitment to Kim and her success. Still, he hoped that Ron didn't have an … incident. That would not reflect well on anyone.

"First revolution complete," Kim announced. "Initiating second revolution."

The ship continued its corkscrew as it hurtled forward through space. Kim was feeling good about the sitch; _Enterprise_ was handling beautifully. _You rock, Dad_, she thought. _This ship is spankin'!_

The bridge had fallen quiet. The only sounds were the beeps and pings of the various systems.

"Second revolution complete," Kim announced. "Initiating third revolution."

The ship responded to Kim's commands. Then, about one-fifth of the way through the turn, the computer voice spoke up.

"Warning: stress level on port nacelle pylon will exceed safety levels in ten seconds."

_What?_ Kim thought. _That's a surprise_. "Mr. Data …"

"I am sorry, Ensign, but there were no previous indications."

Kim quickly considered the situation. "Mr. LaForge, this is the bridge; begin venting plasma from the port nacelle now!"

"You got it, Ensign!" Geordi responded, liking the idea of reducing the mass carried by the stressed pylon.

"Ensign, perhaps you should abort …" the admiral advised.

"So not going to happen," Kim said curtly. "A sudden reversal of the rotational forces on the pylon would only add to the stress. We're coming out of this turn as planned."

"Ensign," Data said, "Pressure on the pylon has been relieved."

"Good," Kim said. "Mr. LaForge, when the ship's attitude is 180 degrees from the point where the problem first arose, vent the starboard nacelle."

"Understood, Ensign."

As expected, at the predicted point, the computer announced the sudden spike in stress levels; Geordi responded as instructed and the danger passed.

_Enterprise_ came out of its third revolution, still traveling at Warp Three.

Kim checked the telemetry on the probe; the two venting procedures had deflected the ship from its original course. She proceeded to make adjustments to the ship's trajectory.

"The probe is 150,000 kilometers dead ahead."

"Prepare to drop out of warp at my mark," Kim announced.

"One hundred thousand kilometers … 75,000 … 50,000 … 25,000 … 10—" Data reported.

"Now, Mr. Data."

"Dropping out of warp, now," he replied.

"I need one-quarter impulse, Mr. LaForge," Kim ordered.

"You got it. One-quarter impulse."

"The probe is 4,200 kilometers off the port bow," Data said.

Kim continued to work the controls.

"Are you not going to stop, Ensign?" Data asked.

"Not yet, Mr. Data," she said with confidence. "Not yet, not yet, not yet … Mr. LaForge, full stop NOW."

The _Galaxy_-class starship came to a full stop.

On screen was a very clear image of the probe.

"The probe," Data announced, "is … one point five kilometers off the starboard bow." He looked at Kim, a look of wonder on his face. "Most impressive, Ensign."

She smiled at Data, then, unable to suppress a grin, replied nonchalantly, "No big!"

The bridge broke out into cheers after Ron let out a hearty "Boo-yah!"

Nechayev shook her head in disbelief. "That's impossible," she said.

Ron, overhearing that comment, walked up to Nechayev and draped his arm around her shoulder. "Actually, Admiral, it's possible. Kim Possible. But that's a common mistake."

Picard stood up and approached Kim, who turned to see him. "Ensign, that was the most remarkable piece of flying I have seen in more than thirty years in Starfleet."

"Thank you, sir," Kim said, still smiling with satisfaction. She was looking up at her pleased commanding officer, then caught a grinning Ron out of the corner of her eye. She was a little less discreet than she intended. Picard noticed she had cast a glance beyond him and knew at whom she would be looking. He turned around. "Mr. Stoppable, would you care to join us?"

Ron walked over to Kim. Now red-faced from the attention, she looked at Ron, who was beaming with pride.

"That was sooooo cool, KP!" he gushed.

Picard agreed. "I must concur with Mr. Stoppable's assessment, Ensign. That was indeed … cool." The captain then looked at Nechayev. "Would you not agree, Admiral?"

Nechayev knew when to surrender gracefully. "I would, Captain Picard. You have a truly exceptional helmsman," she said. "Well done, Ensign Possible. Very well done, indeed." Alynna Nechayev may have become immersed in politics and bureaucracy, but she was still a Starfleet officer who could take pleasure in witnessing a remarkable performance.

IX.

There had been one localized inertial dampener failure.

It was in Cargo Bay Six.

While Tom Carter wasn't hurt – he had taken safety precautions – four vats had slammed against the bulkhead and burst open, covering the storage space, and the lieutenant, in green paint.

X.

Will Riker led Ron back into the Observation Lounge.

"That was quite a show, wasn't it?" the executive officer asked.

"That's my KP," Ron answered with pride.

Will grinned. "So, now that you know we've got a qualified driver, are you willing to stay on board?"

"W-eelll," Ron said, much to Will's surprise. "Look, Commander, it's great being here with Kim and all, but, you know, l, I spent too many years just, well," Ron looked away from Riker, "letting Kim carry me … I don't want a job just because I have an in …"

"Ron, this has nothing to do with Kim. Captain Picard and Admiral Nechayev have more than six decades of combined service experience, and according to the captain you prepared the single best meal either of them has ever had on board a Starfleet vessel."

"Really?"

"Ron, this is the Federation flagship and you saw what our galley was like. It's all downhill from here as you go through the fleet. Too much reliance on replicators, if you ask me," Riker said, his inner cook coming to the fore. "You know, we don't get many four-star-restaurant-caliber chefs volunteering for deep space duty. Hell, I know that the only reason we're having this conversation is because somebody in San Francisco made an incredibly shortsighted and foolish decision."

Ron thought about that. Before the incident on the moon, Ron was prepared to return to Earth to resume his culinary career; he and Kim had decided they would just have to find a way to make a long-distance relationship work. The job opportunity here was a fluke. A good fluke, but a fluke nonetheless.

"Okay, I'll stay …"

"That's great …"

"Whoa!" Ron said, holding up his hands, "you have to let me finish. I'll stay, but under certain conditions."

"Shoot. We'll see what we can do."

"What kind of quarters do I get?"

"Hmm. You'd be rated a chief warrant officer, like Mr. O'Brien. That would entitle you to a solo cabin."

"Window?"

Riker's eyebrows jumped.

"I like looking at the stars and, well, I like to see where we're going," Ron explained.

"Yes," Will answered said with a grin. "You get a window."

"Food prep area?"

Riker smiled. "Yes, since you're the ship's chef."

"Good. This rating thing. What's that about?"

"We'd enlist you in Starfleet …"

"Nope," Ron said, his arms crossed over his chest. "I stay, I remain a civilian."

"May I ask why?"

"Yeah. One, I don't know the rules all too well, but as long as I'm a civilian KP and I can date without any trouble. But if I put on that uniform, then there's the whole rank thing to mess things up. I don't want that to complicate our relationship. Second, my way, I work for Captain Picard and you. You guys leave, I can resign. I put on a uniform, I'm stuck with the next captain or, even worse, I get transferred away from Kim. Not gonna happen."

"You really have done a lot of business with the Ferengi, haven't you?" Will observed with a wry grin. "You're pretty good at this."

"Hey, what can I say? The Rondo is here to play. Now, let's talk about pay and facilities. And, oh yeah, we need to talk about Worf continuing to give me bat'leth lessons …"

Ron Stoppable had indeed come a long way from the day when he could almost be bought off with a grande-sized chimerito.

XI.

Will and Ron exited from the Observation Lounge onto the bridge. The first officer led Ron over to Picard.

"Sir, may I introduce our new ship's chef, effective immediately."

A smiling Picard stood up and extended his hand. "Congratulations, Mr. Stoppable. I'm delighted that you will be part of our crew. I am very much looking forward to our dinner with Lord Fiske this evening …"

Kim was listening to the exchange with great pleasure. She wanted to turn around and look at Ron, but she did have the helm and Nechayev was still on the bridge.

"… Admiral, do you know of any special requirements the ambassador might have?"

"I believe the person who can answer those questions would be Ms. Rockwaller."

_Poor Ron_, Kim thought. _Less than two minutes into the job and he has to deal with Bonnie. That is so ferociously unfair!_

"Very well, then. Mr. Stoppable, I will leave that conversation to you."

"You got it, Captain," Ron said brightly, masking his distinct lack of enthusiasm at having to deal with Bonnie Rockwaller. He was turning to leave the bridge when Picard called after him. "Ron, I believe Ensign Possible has earned a celebratory lunch in light of her achievement. Perhaps you would be willing to prepare something special for her?"

This time, Ron's smile was genuine. "It'd be my pleasure, Captain."

Kim turned around and beamed at Ron. The smiles disappeared, though, as the bridge was illuminated by a brilliant flash of light that deposited an unscheduled visitor to _Enterprise_.

"Q!" Picard snapped.

"Ah, _mon capitan!_ You are looking bald as ever. But I'm not here to see you. I'm here to see him!" Q said as he slapped Ron on the back. "Congratulations."

"Uh, thanks," Ron replied warily.

"You know, Stoppable, you are doing Starfleet a signal service by staying on board. Maybe with a few good meals in his tummy Jean-Luc will be a happier man."

Ron was taken aback when a moment later he found himself smoking a cigar. Q turned from Ron and approached the helm.

"And here she is, Master of the Skies and Helmsman _Extraordinaire!_ You, too, should celebrate!" Kim, who had been sitting at her station, suddenly found herself sitting in Ron's lap and, like her boyfriend, found herself puffing on a cigar. She found it (the cigar, not sitting in Ron's lap, which she very much enjoyed) to be revolting.

"Well, Jean-Luc, I should be going. And one piece of advice. When you assign young Stoppable his quarters make sure they have a sturdy bed and very soundproof walls. These two are very naughty at night! Ta ta!"

Q disappeared in a flash, leaving behind a red-faced Kim Possible and an equally embarrassed Ron Stoppable. Neither of them, after all, really felt it necessary for the bridge crew to know the details of their off-duty activities.

XII.

"KP, it'll be all right."

"Ron! It is so not all right! Everybody must think …" Kim ranted on, still agitated about Q and his remark on the bridge.

"Yeah, I guess having people know you sleep with …"

"No pity fiestas, Ron! You know that's not what I'm getting at. You know I'm ferociously proud to be seen with … why are you smiling?"

"Hey, I got you to change the subject!"

"I cannot believe you just played me!" she said indignantly, before laughing. "Okay, Chef Boy, you got me." Kim looked at her clean plate and sighed. "That was really good, Ron."

"Well, gotta keep my Kimila happy. It really was badical of the captain to let me make you lunch."

"It sure was. And it was even nicer of him to give me time to help you get settled into your new quarters," she said.

"Yeah, though it's not the old space …"

"But at least it has a window," she countered, taking his hand as she looked at the stars.

"Yeah, I know, KP. It's just that, well …"

"What? Spill!"

"The other quarters have some special, uh, memories."

Kim melted. It still stunned her that her goofy friend of more than two decades could be so sweet, even romantic. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Well, we'll just have to make some new memories, won't we?" she purred.

"Yeah, I guess we will," Ron said before a wicked grin spread over his face.

"What?" Kim asked.

"I wonder if the bed's sturdy and the walls are soundproof …"

"You are a bad boy, Ron Stoppable!"

"Yeah, what are you going to do about it, KP?"

"Why, help you test the bed and soundproofing, you big goof …"

XIII.

_I'd much rather be back in my new quarters kissing Kim. You'd think Q could show up and help when I need him,_ Ron thought sourly as he prepared to press the chime pad. He was not looking forward to seeing Bonnie Rockwaller. He hadn't spoken with her in more than five years and he would have been happy to keep that streak going. Though he hoped Bonnie had changed – Kim, after all, had grown beyond her hottie fixation and Ron himself had given up being a slacker – he wasn't holding his breath. At heart, Kim was still Kim and Ron was still Ron. So Bonnie would most likely still be Bonnie. _Oh well,_ he said to himself,_ time to suck it up and be a man, Rondo._

He pressed the button. The door slid open and he entered.

"Hello, Bonnie," Ron said.

"Oh my gosh," Bonnie said, flinching as she looked at Ron, before composing herself. "So, it's true."

"Yup, yup! Ron Stoppable is in the house," Ron quipped, ignoring Bonnie's reaction; he had had too good a day to let her get him down. "So," he said seriously, "we've got a reception and a dinner to plan."

Bonnie was surprised by this business-like Ron Stoppable.

"Yes. You sure you're up to this?" she asked, unsure of herself. It was weird enough that Ron Stoppable of all people had turned up as chef on this ship, but … his face. Bonnie had heard nothing about that.

"'Sha. A piece of cake for the Ronman."

"Ron, this isn't New Middleton you know," she said, feeling more at ease and slipping into familiar patterns of behavior. "This is serious. To be honest, I'm surprised you're the chef here."

Ron bristled. "Yeah. I'm sure you are. You probably thought I'd wind up being the guy who filled the jelly donuts. Once a loser, always a loser, right? My being here violates the food chain, right?"

Bonnie looked far less confident than Ron had ever seen her. She wasn't accustomed to him being aggressive and confident.

"Look, Bon-Bon," he continued, "it's been five years since we last saw each other. Things change. I'm not the same slacker you knew in high school, okay? I was offered this job because Captain Picard wanted me here. You got a problem with that, you talk to him. If not, let's get to work. It takes time to prepare a menu and a meal, and this isn't the only gig I have to worry about. I have to feed a bunch of hungry Klingons, including their Big Cheese, tomorrow, and then I've got to worry about some visiting Orionisi."

Bonnie just looked at Ron slack-jawed. This really wasn't the same Ron Stoppable she'd known in New Middleton. He was right. High school had been five years ago, though it seemed much further in the past. She'd gone to college where she had the right boyfriend, whose father was able to get her a slot for the diplomatic corps exam. Bonnie may have been mean-spirited, but she also knew how to be charming and how to act around dignitaries. She did well enough on the exam to be accepted into the Foreign Service. She signed on, looking forward to a career of VIPs, special parties, glamorous travel. The reality was different at first. She began by pushing padds and doing boring office work. But then she began dating a new guy, whose father was in Starfleet. Neither of them saw the relationship going anywhere, but the guy's father took a shine to Bonnie and wangled her a position on Admiral Nechayev's staff. The Federation, just like high school, had its food chains, and Bonnie knew how to climb upwards.

Yet Bonnie, despite having been trained as a junior diplomat, found that she couldn't help but stare at Ron.

She couldn't imagine what it would be like to be so … disfigured.

Finally, Ron laid down his padd. "One too many run-ins with the bullies in D Hall."

"What are you talking about?" she snapped.

"You're wondering what happened to my holofilm-star good looks. The bullies in D Hall …"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron. You were fine when we graduated from high school," Bonnie said, sounding annoyed. "How did you let that happen to you?" she finally demanded.

_Leave it to Bonnie to make it sound like I did something wrong,_ Ron thought. He sighed, then told Bonnie about the attack on the moon.

Bonnie just gawped. Tom hadn't told her any of that. Just that Kim had dumped him for Ron. She wondered whether Kim would have dumped Tom if she knew Ron would look like this and realized that she was projecting her own … shallowness … onto her rival. The more salient question, she realized, was whether Tom would have given up so much to protect Kim. Or her.

Finally, Bonnie spoke. "Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you … well, you know, your face, and …"

He looked Bonnie in the eye. "Because I love Kim," he declared. "I know you never liked her, so maybe you won't believe this, but KP's the most badical person in the universe. I couldn't let anything happen to her. Not when we were kids, not now. You should know that by now. I would have done it even if we weren't together."

Bonnie leaned back in her chair and smiled. "You would have, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Ron, let me give you a piece of advice. Watch out. She's got a temper."

Ron laughed. "That I know!"

"And she hits."

"Huh?"

Bonnie, unable to help herself, smirked. "Last night she beat down her ex in a tur–"

"I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah, I know. Tom was coming onto her, she tried to push him off, he kept on going, and, well, you don't mess with KP and her 16 kinds of kung fu!"

Bonnie sat quietly. Tom hadn't told her that part of the story, either.

The two returned to the menu planning. While they reviewed the options for the next evening's event, Ron realized something was bothering him.

"How did you know?" he asked.

Bonnie looked up. "Know about …"

"The thing in the turbolift."

Bonnie did something she very rarely did – she blushed. Then she looked away from Ron. "I found him."

"Oooooh," Ron said, recognition dawning on his face.

"And then we spent the night together."

"Too much information!" Ron protested, lifting up his hands and turning his head away.

Bonnie sat quietly, lost in her thoughts.

"You okay, Bon-Bon?" Ron finally asked.

Bonnie scowled. "Why do things always work out for Kim but never for me?" she said petulantly. "I heard about you and Kim from Tom. My first thought, was, hah, she's finally dating that loser and I've got the prince! Instead, I find out she's dating the knight in shining armor and I'm with the toad."

"Well, at least the toad is better looking than the loser," Ron offered helpfully.

"You're not a loser," Bonnie mumbled.

"'Scuse me?"

"I said you're not a loser, okay? You're weird. And so is Kim. But neither of you is a loser."

"Well, from you, that's a compliment I'll treasure for the rest of my life, Bonnie," Ron said with a big grin. "So, what are you going to do about Pretty Boy?" he asked.

"Pretty Boy?" Bonnie asked, her eyebrow arched.

Ron laughed nervously. "I was, uh, kind of jealous of Carter when I came on board. I began to think of him as Pretty Boy. Anyway, what's next?"

Bonnie sighed. "I don't know. Part of me thinks I should just dump him. But he's such a hottie. And I do like him. And I so cannot believe I'm on a starship discussing my love life with you!"

Ron's grin grew larger. "You want me to keep this conversation a secret? Ya know, when I see Kim, I'll tell her you were a major pain in the behind, ragged on me, yadda yadda yadda?"

"Ugh. Kim's going to get so much pleasure from this."

"Uh, Bonnie, incoming transmission. Kim's life isn't all about you. Ya know, I'm not telling you to be best buds or anything, but maybe it's time for you two to sort of leave the feud behind. Sure, KP is the most badical, bon-diggity girl to ever attend New Middleton High, but I'm biased. You seem to have done okay for yourself, being the aide to Admiral Attila the Hun …"

"Ron!" Bonnie snapped indignantly.

"Hey, I call 'em like I see 'em. Anyway, you like Tom, fine. Maybe you two will do just fine together. But maybe you should talk to Kim, get her read on things."

Bonnie shook her head. "So, like how did you become an expert on dating?"

"Years of patient observation and failed experimentation, culminating in one, final triumphant success about a week ago?"

"You are so strange, Stoppable," Bonnie said, unable to suppress a smile.

"That may be true, Bon-Bon, but can I plan and make a meal," he said grinning. "So here's what I think we should serve the ambassador tonight …"

XIV.

"Sir, the ambassador is ready to beam over."

"Excellent, Mr. Data. Admiral, would you care to join me in Transporter Room Four?"

"Thank you, Captain."

Nechayev tapped her comm badge.

"Nechayev to Rockwaller."

"Rockwaller here."

"Ms. Rockwaller, please meet us at Transporter Room Four."

"Yes, Admiral. Rockwaller out."

"Ensign Possible, you're with me," the captain said as he rose from his command chair.

"Yes, sir," Kim answered. This would be her first duty as ADC to the captain and she was excited. As much as she missed her lieutenant's pip, she recognized just what an incredible opportunity she had been given. She'd watched a program on the _Knowing Net_ about Ambassador Fiske and his archaeological expeditions, which had taken him across the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. Meeting him would be quite a privilege, though having Bonnie there would be weird. At least Bonnie couldn't be snarky with the dignitaries present.

The three officers boarded the turbolift and Picard gave the order to head to the transporter room.

"Captain, am I correct in recalling that you've met the ambassador?" Nechayev asked.

"Yes, I did, at an archaeological symposium on Taxel VI. His work in the field is most impressive, though I must confess that, at times, he has pushed the bounds of acceptable practice on some of his digs. There were many questions asked about his retrieval of the Ikonian Monkey idols last year …"

Kim suppressed a smile as she listened to her captain. The mention of monkeys, even, perhaps especially, alien ones, would surely have set off Ron. She wondered how he'd react to knowing he was preparing dinner for a man who actively sought out simian artifacts.

XV.

"Ambassador, welcome aboard _Enterprise_," the captain said, extending his hand.

"Thank you, it is a pleasure to see you again, Captain," the urbane Englishman replied. "That truly was a fascinating conference, was it not?"

"Indeed it was," Picard replied, impressed that Fiske remembered their last encounter. "I believe you know Admiral Nechayev?" he asked.

"Yes, so good to see you again, Admiral."

"Indeed, Lord Fiske. Allow me to introduce my protocol officer, Ms. Bonnie Rockwaller."

"Ms. Rockwaller, a delight," he said smoothly.

"And, Ambassador," Picard said, "allow me to introduce my ADC, Ensign Kimberly Possible."

"Ms. Possible, so nice to meet you," Fiske said.

"Thank you, sir. I've read all about your archaeological work," Kim replied. "It's fascinating."

"Why thank you. Perhaps we'll have a chance to talk some more about it at the reception this evening." Fiske then turned to Picard. "Captain, if it is not too much trouble, I would like to be shown to my quarters so I might rest before this evening's festivities."

"Of course, Ambassador. Please, follow me."

XVI.

"_Constellation_ is ready to beam over the new crew member, sir."

"Okay, we're ready," Riker said, as he stood in Transporter Room Three.

Will watched as the familiar glimmering pattern and whining sound filled the pad. The effects faded, and the latest addition to _Enterprise_'s crew was aboard.

Riker looked at the new arrival, who stood about three feet tall, had incredibly broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms – and the largest buck teeth he'd ever seen.

"Welcome to _Enterprise_, Mr. Rufus."

"It is a pleasure to be here, sir."

Will was amazed by how much the naked mole rat sounded like Worf.

* * *

_TBC …_


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks to whitem, Darkcloud1, Matri, Emerald Dark Knight, calamite, conan98002, campy, JPMod, duckman12, captainkodak1, keimztri, Parareru, FAH3, Classic Cowboy, Morsamare, Jason Barnett, Nightwing 509, Yuri Sisteble, daywalkr82, The Odd Little Turtle, Visigoth29527, mattb3671, Molloy, JMAN2.0, Shinriko, Ultimate Naco Topping, Moss Royal, CajunBear73, suforst, Yankee Bard, Zaratan, Commander Argus, Supreme Admiral of the Web, TexasDad, Theta-Alpha-One, Josh84, Markv1.0, TAZER ZERO, momike, Ezbok58a, jasminevr, Taechunsa, IncrediRaider8, MichaelCross, The Halfa Wannabe, chefjet, AtomicFire, Ace Ian Combat, US.Steele, and Brother to Vorlons for reviewing and to everyone for reading.

Write a review, get a response.

Thanks to campy for beta- and proofreading. He rocks at warp speed.

Hank Perkins says: You saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney. You saw it on _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I. 

Kim was pulling out her dress uniform when the door chimed. She knew it wasn't Ron; he was already in the galley preparing the meal for the ambassador's dinner. She wished they'd had a chance to talk after his visit with Bonnie, but she had returned to her station on the bridge and when she came off duty, Ron was at work. Since this was his first official function as ship's chef she didn't want to disturb him.

"Come in," she said.

The door opened, and there stood a heavily muscled three-and-a-half-foot-tall naked mole rat.

"Ensign Possible," he said.

"Yes?" Kim said, surprised by how much her visitor sounded like Worf.

"My name is Rufus …"

Kim offered a hand in greeting to her visitor. She realized that Rufus was the first naked mole rat she'd seen aboard ship during her year on _Enterprise,_ which, upon further reflection, surprised her. Naked mole rats were known for their great affinity for adventure and space travel. They were considered one of the galaxy's evolutionary marvels; just 400 years earlier, they were all the size of hamsters and couldn't talk. Now they were a race of sentient mammals, fierce fighters and extremely competent engineers. They had left Earth long ago to set up their own society, a place where they could eat cheese, sleep, and run through kilometers-long plastic tubes for fun and recreation. They also liked to rap.

"… I was asked by a mutual friend to deliver this to you."

He extended his other paw and presented Kim with what looked like a padd, but clearly wasn't. The device was blue, had a cluster of buttons beneath a small viewscreen, and had a number of ports, slots, and doors on its sides and top.

"And this is …?" she asked. Kim was curious, yet wary, wondering if she should bring the device to engineering for a scan. She didn't need a year in security to be wary of strangers bringing unknown devices during the middle of an investigation.

Rufus smiled. "Boothby told me you would be a cautious one."

"You know Boothby?" Kim asked, rather surprised. Rufus was wearing a warrant officer's uniform, with insignia similar to Chief O'Brien's; so the mole rat would not have attended the Academy. She wondered how they had met.

"Yes, we share a passion for cheese. We used to meet regularly at _La Fromagerie_ in Pacific Heights."

"O-kaaay," Kim said, feeling that this was getting weird very quickly. "You still haven't told me what this is."

"Wade Load …"

Kim's curiosity was now fully engaged.

"Whoa. You know Wade, too?"

"Yes, on-line virtual gaming. He is very proficient at Everlot, though he has yet to become a Tunnel Lord," Rufus said in a way that made clear to Kim he was a Tunnel Lord, whatever that was. "Wade thought you might like a means of communicating with him that was convenient and … truly secure."

"I see," she said, looking at the device. It could prove very useful. She looked at Rufus. "How does it work?"

"Press that red button …"

Kim did as instructed and Wade's image appeared.

"Hey, what up guys?" he asked. "So, Kim, you like the Kimmunicator?"

"This rocks, Wade," she said, mildly embarrassed that she had doubted Rufus and was now holding a piece of technology that had been named after her.

"Yeah, well I thought it might come in handy. This is completely off-net and totally, and I mean totally, secure. Rufus can show you how to use all of its features. And if you want, I can get one for your boyfriend."

Kim grinned. "Spankin'! Ron would think …" she said before her grin turned to a scowl. "Wade, how do you know about Ron? Ron and I hadn't started dating when we last talked …" she quickly considered the possibility that someone else had told Wade, but realized how he knew … "You've been reading my on-line diary!"

"Uh, hey, had to make sure you're on the up-and-up, before I gave you sensitive technology like this …"

"So not cool, Wade," she said, glowering.

Wade could tell that he'd crossed a line.

"Okay, okay, I won't do it again," he said sheepishly.

"Good," she said sternly before allowing her scowl to soften a little bit. "And thanks for the Kimmunicator, Wade."

Kim ended the call. She was still somewhat miffed.

"Wade does not have much of a social life," Rufus explained, seeing Kim's expression. "He becomes lonely. For what it is worth, if he sent you this device and offered one to Ron, he considers you both to be friends."

Kim pulled a face.

"And that makes this right how?" she asked, a note of skepticism in her voice.

"It does not make it right at all. I just tell you this so you know that he meant no harm. And that you might consider adopting more traditional diary entry techniques that involve the use of pen and paper."

Kim arched an eyebrow.

"It would be … prudent," he noted.

Kim snorted, thanked Rufus for the delivery, asked if they could meet in the morning since she was pressed for time, and watched her visitor leave. She had been tempted to tell both Rufus and Wade where to get off. But Rufus had been polite – he not only sounded like Worf but comported himself like the Klingon, too – and Wade had been helpful. Plus, Boothby had vouched for the young tech guru. In her gut, she knew that what the naked mole rat said was true. Wade meant no harm. She just hoped he hadn't read everything in her diary. Especially about that thing Ron could do that made her very, very happy …

II.

Kim was still thinking about her strange visit when the door chime rang again. She sighed. She really did need to get ready for the reception.

"Come," she said.

"K," her visitor replied.

"Bonnie," she replied icily. "To what do I owe the pleasure? And for your sake I hope you weren't rude to Ron."

"Nice to see you, too, Kim," Bonnie said haughtily, as she looked around the small, shared quarters. "Like, how do you live in here? This is a closet!"

"Bonnie, I'm kind of busy and so don't have time for this," Kim snapped.

"Yes, I know. Captain Picard's little helper," Bonnie retorted. "Look, I, um, well ..."

Kim was surprised by her erstwhile classmate's sudden change of demeanor. Bonnie actually seemed to be squirming.

"Okay, I met with Stoppable earlier. He said we should talk."

Kim felt like she'd been tackled by a crazed Klingon.

"Come again?" she asked.

"Don't be dense, Possible. You heard me. I talked with your boy toy. Yes, I know all about the two of you. It sure took you long enough to get together," she snorted.

"So, you're here why?" Kim asked, quite confused.

"I need your … advice."

_It's Q_, Kim thought. _Q masquerading as Bonnie. That has to be what's going on …_

"About, um, Tom Carter."

Kim sneered. "He's a jerk."

"I know that," Bonnie said.

"O-kaaay," Kim replied, not expecting that reply,

"But I still kind of like him. He is sooo good in bed …"

_Why am I not surprised that Bonnie knows that already?_" Kim asked herself.

"… and, here's the weird thing. I like talking to him."

"So, what do you want to know, Bonnie?" Kim asked. "You already know things about him that I don't."

"Would you have broken up with him if Stoppable hadn't told you how he felt?" the brunette asked.

Kim sighed. "I don't know, Bonnie. But I'm glad I did. And not just because I'm with Ron," she said with a dreamy smile that made Bonnie smirk. "Tom didn't seem to want an equal. He wanted someone to look up to him. I lost a bit of myself during our time together; I just didn't know it until Ron came. Tom will try to mold you. If you're going to be with him, you need to be on guard for that," she warned, recalling just how much her relationship with Tom had affected her; in retrospect, it was rather frightening. Kim was glad she had Ron, who only seemed to want to build her up, though she knew when it was appropriate he'd zing her – just as she would him. She realized she was ignoring Bonnie. Kim looked at her guest and arched an eyebrow. "Of course, I can't recall a time when you had any trouble keeping a guy in line," she added with a wry grin.

"Benefit to being the Queen Bee, K," Bonnie added with a smile that for the first time Kim could ever remember carried a bit of genuine warmth. "Well, thanks for talking, Kim. I appreciate it."

"Uh, sure," Kim answered, still pleasantly surprised by the way the conversation had unfolded. "I assume I'll see you at the reception tonight?"

"Oh yes," she replied. Then, with a wicked grin Bonnie added, "Good thing you have to wear a uniform. I don't even want to imagine what kind of fashion horror you'd put on if left to your own devices …"

Kim instinctively clenched her fists.

Then Bonnie winked. "You are still so easy to play, Possible. See you later!" she said as she left a slack-jawed Kim to get dressed.

III.

"Now, look, here's the deal. Drakken's kind of …" Shego said.

"Weird?" Lore interjected.

_Weird. Strange. Goofy. Brilliant. Incompetent. Whack_. Shego thought. "Yeah, weird's a good place to start. Anyway, he sort of sees me and him as an evil family."

"How touching," the android said with a mock-moved face.

"Will you be serious!" Shego snapped.

"That's not what you said when we …"

Shego actually blushed. "Yeah, well that was different. Different and very, very good, I'll confess." She was now smiling. "Multiple techniques indeed. Mad props to the guy that wrote your code!"

Lore grinned. He'd been quite impressed by his new partner's … athleticism. The trip from the installation where they'd found the Vortex Inducer to Drakken's World had given him a chance to get to better know Shego. The android was intrigued by the odd-hued woman. She was so unlike the other humans he'd known over the years. So refreshingly … evil.

"Look, we're going to have to blow this party and relocate; Princess and her Starfleet buddies are going to be looking for us when they realize the PDVI is missing," Shego said. "Drakken's not going to like having to abandon his planet."

"We could always let him stay," Lore offered helpfully. "He could take the fall."

Shego, much to her own surprise, considered that option. Lore was so much more appropriate for her as a business partner than Drakken. Yet Lipsky was, in a strange way, her friend, her … family. She couldn't just toss him to the sharks. Not yet. Besides, he was the one who'd designed the wormhole generator. They still needed him to make it operational. "No," she finally said. "Dr. D is part of the team."

"You mean the _family_," Lore said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Shego looked at Lore. "You got a problem I need to know about, Golden Boy?"

"No," he said, suddenly cool. "Just some family issues of my own. But those are in the past." Lore then grinned. "Who knows, maybe what I've needed all along is a new family. An evil family of my own. Okay, I'm ready!" he enthused, clasping his hands together. "Let's go meet the old man!"

Shego arched an eyebrow. _This is either going to go really well. Or really, really bad_, she thought as she continued piloting her ship to the lair.

IV.

Kim walked into the galley, which was a beehive of activity. Thoughts of that special thing Ron could do outweighed her desire to leave him alone to his work. She wanted to spend a few minutes with him before the evening's activities began.

Kim grinned as she saw Ron was wearing traditional civilian chef's gear: a white tunic and hound's-tooth checked pants. His two assistants, even though Starfleet personnel, were similarly dressed. She marveled at how quickly Ron had begun to put his stamp on the galley; she could tell just by looking at the kitchen equipment; none of it appeared to be Starfleet issue. She was impressed by just how hard a bargain he must have driven when he agreed to stay on board.

"Hey, KP!" he said when he noticed her.

She smiled when she saw him not-so-discretely appreciate her dress uniform.

"I like the hair up," he added enthusiastically.

Kim suspected that was so because it gave him easier access to her neck, which she was happy to provide. She blushed a bit as she realized what she was thinking. Having these thoughts about Ron, and knowing he had similar thoughts about her, was still so new and, she mused, quite nice.

"Thanks," she replied. "I just wanted to wish you good luck with the dinner."

"Thanks," he said. "But this bon-diggity kitchen crew doesn't need luck. We've got mad fu cooking skills."

"Getting big-heady, are we?"

"Er, well, um …" Ron said, blushing.

Kim laughed. "Okay, boys, now you know: your boss is easily played!"

The two assistants both grinned. They both felt bad that Mr. Pang had died, but from a professional standpoint, they knew they'd lucked out with Ron's appointment. They were amused to learn that free entertainment would be part of the new arrangement, too.

Ron looked at the two young crew members. "Aww, man. No loyalty! That's it. You guys get to test the gagh tomorrow!"

The grins turned to looks of horror. Kim was smiling. She was sad she'd have to leave; she was having fun.

"Hey, you too, Ensign Possible," Ron said in a surprisingly businesslike tone. "You are the Captain's ADC. Gotta make sure that what we serve to our important guest tomorrow is up to snuff …"

"You are so not serious," she said.

"Oh, yeah. I'm serious. Way serious."

"Well," she said with a gulp. "Then I'll just have to try it…" she conceded.

"Gotcha!" he said.

Kim pulled a face.

"Oh yeah! The Ronman scores! Booyah!"

Kim came over to Ron and whispered in his ear.

Ron's smile disappeared.

"Okay, Booyah denied …"

Kim left with a smirk on her face.

Ron didn't feel a need to tell his assistants about the privileges Kim had threatened to suspend if he really made her sample gagh.

V.

Bonnie entered Ten Forward with Tom Carter. She had had a little chat with him before they left his quarters. Bonnie made it clear that she was no Kim Possible, that she wouldn't be led around and that if Tom Carter had any interest in pursuing anything with her, he would remember that. And that if he had anything else he'd failed to tell her, he would do so right then and there.

Tom had been stunned both by Bonnie's raw assertiveness and at his realization that Bonnie must have spoken with Kim. He wondered what had precipitated that conversation. He told Bonnie that she now knew everything there was to know about his relationship with Kim, though he couldn't help but suggest rather defensively that his ex-girlfriend was out of control when she kneed him.

Then Tom realized there was one other thing he needed to share with Bonnie: he had followed up on her suggestion of earlier that morning and filed the complaint against Kim. He hadn't been sure whether he should, but after he'd been covered with paint as a result of Kim's flying, he was angry.

Bonnie groaned. As she had gotten a better handle on the crew dynamics and had heard of Kim's piloting triumph, she knew her one-time rival was almost untouchable at the moment. She half expected Nechayev to restore Kim's rank; the admiral had confessed admiration for Kim's skills at the helm. Further, Bonnie realized that Ron Stoppable was right: It was time to leave her feud with Kim behind. She couldn't ever see herself actually liking Kim Possible – Kim was too holier-than-thou, too straight-laced for Bonnie – but that didn't mean she needed to be at loggerheads with her. Teen-aged rivalries were best left in the past and as their careers advanced, Kim could always be useful to Bonnie. "Ugh. I wish I'd never suggested you file that complaint, Tom," she said. "Maybe you can withdraw it before anyone sees it …" Bonnie was at heart an operator and she now suspected that the only person who was going to suffer as a result of Tom's report was Tom.

"That's a good idea, Bonnie. I'll do it right after the reception."

VI.

"So, Ensign," Will Riker said as he approached Kim, who was talking with Data. "You think you and Ron would like to join us for a few hands of poker later on?"

Kim was flabbergasted. To be invited to The Poker Game was something junior officers dreamt of. "Wow. That would be spankin'!" she said before blushing. "I mean, yes sir, we'd love to."

Will and Deanna laughed while Data looked on, nonplussed.

"Ensign," Data said, "I must clarify what must be a misconception. There will be no spanking at the poker game. Though I understand that some couples find that activity to be quite enjoyable. Might I infer that you and Ron are among them?"

Kim had turned as red as her uniform while Will and Deanna clutched their stomachs, unable to control their laughter.

"Did I say something amusing?" Data asked.

VII.

Tom was scowling.

"Loosen up, Tom. So K's having a good day. Besides, she was always a teacher's pet."

"But look at her! Palling around with the senior officers." _That should be me_, he thought. _I'm the one they should be admitting to the inner circle!_

Bonnie was the first to notice the first officer break away from the group. He was heading towards them.

"Look, Tom. Commander Riker's coming over. Smile."

Tom stood up a little straighter and smoothed out his dress tunic.

"Sir," he said as Riker approached.

"Lieutenant, Ms. Rockwaller," he replied in a friendly enough tone.

"Hello, Commander Riker," Bonnie said sweetly. "Quite the party, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. What do you think of the _hors d'ouevres_?"

"They're excellent," she said.

"Prepared by our new chef. I understand you went to school with him?"

"Yes. Kim, Ron, and I go way back. I remember when Ron was our high school mascot. He ran around in this bulldog's head he made. It was so strange," she said conspiratorially. "But the crowds ate it up!" she added with a laugh.

Riker was grinning. Tom, much to his annoyance, sensed that the first officer had taken a liking to Ron Stoppable.

"Well, maybe when Ron's done dazzling us with his culinary talents, I can convince him to be our ship's mascot," Riker suggested with a chuckle.

"Just be prepared for a lot of whipped cream on the bridge," Bonnie said, surprising herself with how much she was enjoying recalling her days on the New Middleton Cheer Squad.

"Ms. Rockwaller, I'm not even going to ask," Will said, a twinkle in his eye. "Now, would you mind if I stole your escort for a few minutes?" he asked, slapping a hand onto Tom's shoulder, before leading the young officer away.

"Sir?" Tom asked.

"I saw the complaint you filed about Ensign Possible. Those are serious allegations and could have serious repercussions for her career," Riker said, the warmth gone from his voice.

Tom wasn't sure how to respond. Right now, damaging Kim's career didn't seem like a bad thing.

"Before you proceed, Lieutenant," Riker continued, "I have to ask you some questions, which you need not answer, not yet anyway. When we convene a hearing and Ensign Possible is deposed, will she tell us things you perhaps forgot to include in your complaint? Even tell a different version of the incident? That wouldn't reflect well on you, Mr. Carter."

Tom Carter stared into the eyes of his superior officer. He was ultimately in this situation because he wanted to be with Kim. And now, from the way Riker was talking, Kim was going to be his ruin.

"Let me give you a piece of advice, Lieutenant," Riker said sternly. "Never, ever let your personal feelings interfere with an operational decision. I'm not saying you did, but if you did, don't do it again. If you decided to withdraw the complaint, I'd be willing to proceed as if none of this ever happened."

"Thank you, sir. That seems to be the best course of action," Tom answered, knowing he was being told what the wise choice would be. "I, uh, appreciate that."

"Good. Enjoy the rest of the evening, Lieutenant," Riker said coolly as he walked away.

Tom watched as the first officer made his way over to Commander LaForge. Moments earlier he had hoped he'd be exchanging pleasantries with the XO; instead he felt like he'd just been keelhauled. He suddenly found himself thinking about Kim. But unlike previous times, he wasn't thinking longingly of her. He now found himself resenting her, feeling angry as if what had happened was her fault. Things would have been fine had she not shown such poor judgment and taken up with Stoppable_. Yes, this situation is definitely Kim's fault. She makes a mess of my life and I'm left to clean up, _he thought as he looked at her from across the room._ That's just not fair …_

"So, you get some good face time in with Commander Riker?" Bonnie asked as she slid up beside Tom.

"Oh yeah. Great," he replied, ruminating on the wrong turn his career suddenly seemed to have taken. Being on Riker's bad side was not the path to promotion or success. And since Kim was apparently now one of Riker's favorites, Tom didn't see himself making up much lost ground there. He wondered if Kim would bad-mouth him. The thought that she might made him scowl.

"Are you okay, Tom?" Bonnie asked.

He was shaken from his reverie. "Huh? Oh, I'm fine. Just, uh, thinking about something I have to do tomorrow," he said. Noticing Bonnie's penetrating and unconvinced stare, he grinned weakly. "You really are different from Kim. I really can't get anything by you, can I?"

Bonnie arched an eyebrow. "You want anymore Rockwaller goodness, you won't even think of it. Now tell all."

Tom did as ordered.

Bonnie listened thoughtfully, wondering what she could do to help Tom. She also wondered if it was even worth bothering. It wasn't as if she was going to be staying on _Enterprise_ forever, just until the end of the conference with the Orionisi delegation. _Still, even if he is a bit of a moron, _Bonnie thought, _he has potential. And great hair. And he was good in bed. Maybe all he needs is someone to mold him. Show him a firm hand and he could be okay._

VIII.

Kim watched as the doors to Ten Forward slid open and Picard ushered in Nechayev and Fiske. She had at first been mildly surprised when the captain told her to go ahead to the reception alone, thinking it was the job of an ADC to be by the commanding officer's side; Picard explained that while that was usually the case, in this instance he suspected the admiral might want to have some private words with the ambassador and him.

As Kim talked with Data, she kept an open eye in case the captain required her presence.

"Lord Fiske has had a most interesting career, has he not, Ensign?"

"Yes, he has, sir. Not many diplomats are also archaeologists and martial arts experts."

"And it is most fortuitous that he will be present for the visit by Chancellor Gowron. His insights into Klingon culture may prove valuable."

"Sir?"

"The ambassador served as the Second Chargé d'affaires in the Federation Embassy during the late 40s."

Kim looked at Data, feeling she had been caught out.

"I would assume that in reading about Lord Fiske in preparation for his visit, you would have focused on his years as an ambassador, when his activities would be more likely to influence the politics and security of the Alpha Quadrant. You should not be embarrassed if you did not recall a minor detail from early in his career, Ensign. It is – how have I heard you put it? – no big."

Kim smiled at the android's use of one of her colloquialisms. "Thank you, sir, but it is big, since all things Klingon have suddenly taken on a huge importance in Ron's life." _And therefore mine_, she thought. Silently, she chided herself as she considered not only Ron's impending encounter with the leader of the Klingon Empire and the Sword of Kahless, but of Q's advice to Ron to 'Think Klingon.' Q's comments of a few days before remained inscrutable. As far as Kim was concerned, any information that could help her protect Ron was invaluable. Kim now found herself hoping she'd have a chance to talk with Fiske – if the man had served on _Qo'noS_ and was an archaeologist, perhaps he knew about the bat'leth's history.

IX.

Yori had always dreamt of being a Starfleet officer. As a little girl, she would lie on her back outdoors and gaze at the stars. The courtyard of the Yamanuchi School had offered an excellent place from which to enjoy the night sky. She had spent almost her entire life prior to entering the Academy at the school where her grandfather was Sensei. He had gladly taken in the young girl when she was orphaned as an infant. Training at a secret ninja school held a special romance to Yori, who had come to love the history and honor of her vocation. And she made some dear friends during those years. Indeed, she had but one regret growing up, and that was never having been able to meet her parents, who had died in a mountain climbing accident.

Yori enjoyed her time at the Academy; she made new friends there, though Kim Possible was not one of them. Though they occasionally sparred in the dojo, they traveled in different circles and never took a liking to one another. It was only when they found themselves on board _Enterprise_ sharing quarters that they discovered how much they enjoyed one another's company. In the year since they boarded the ship, they had become good friends, close enough that Yori had watched with concern as some of Kim's natural edge dissipated as her involvement with Tom Carter deepened. That was why Yori was able to quickly overcome her disappointment at Ron's rejection of her advances; she had been pleased to learn that it was Kim in whom he was interested and she was delighted they were now together. She had heard much about him over the preceding months and had often wondered why Kim was not with Ron. Now that she was, Yori was glad, in no small measure because the confident, lively person she had first become friendly with had resurfaced.

And it was because of her friendship for Kim that Yori felt such remorse as she used a special Section 31 security override device to enter Ron Stoppable's quarters.

X.

"Ensign Possible," Fiske said as he came up to Kim. "So good to see you."

"Thank you, Ambassador," she replied, pleased to have a chance to talk with the VIP. "I'm glad you're getting a chance to relax before the conference."

"Thank you. These meetings can be fascinating, but more often they are rather tedious," he observed. "So, Ensign, I understand that you have seen the Sword of Kahless."

"Yes, sir, I have," she acknowledged. Kim knew of his interest in archaeology and now that she knew he had served on the Klingon homeworld she was not surprised by his interest.

"You must be very proud," he commented. "To have participated in the discovery of such an important piece of Klingon history. Your name will be spoken of in archaeological circles for years to come."

"Actually, sir, I am proud. But I'm not the one who found the Sword. That honor would belong to my boyfriend, Ron Stoppable. He so deserves the credit, not me."

Fiske was working hard to mask his interest in Ron; he had heard the legends about the Sword and was intrigued that Gowron was actually traveling to Khitomer to investigate the wild claims that were being made about the bat'leth. It wasn't long after the incident on Ras T'klar that word of the find began to spread; Fiske had no way of knowing that the news was being disseminated by none other than Kor, who had been determined that the Sword would not once again fall into obscurity. He was ecstatic when he learned that the weapon was on board _Enterprise_.

"I see. And is he here with us tonight?"

"No, he's not."

"Such a shame. I do look forward to meeting him."

"Actually, Ambassador," interjected Picard, who had joined Kim and Fiske, "Mr. Stoppable is our ship's chef and is busy preparing your dinner; I believe you will find it was worth waiting to meet him."

"If this repast is any indication of what's to come, Captain, I will have to agree. These _hors d'ouevres_ are the best I have ever had on a Federation vessel."

"I am pleased to hear that," the captain said. "I am sure that Mr. Stoppable would be delighted to at least introduce himself after our meal, Ambassador. Perhaps you would convey an invitation to my quarters for after dinner, Ensign?"

"Of course, sir," Kim replied, hiding her disappointment that Ron would not be able to come to the poker game with her, but pleased that Ron would have a chance to meet this man who was so clearly interested in Klingon culture and history. _Oh well, maybe he'll still be able to join us for a hand or two …_ she mused.

XI.

Kim still could not believe she was sitting at the card table with Riker, Troi, Data, Worf, and Geordi. Beverly, who would normally have been present, was on duty in Sickbay. _This is what it would have been like,_ Kim thought with excitement,_ to sit at the Seniors' Table in high school when I was a sophomore._

"Well, Kim," the first officer said as Data, wearing his green eyeshade, dealt the cards, "I'm sorry Ron couldn't join us. I was looking forward to playing cards with a man who could out-bargain a Ferengi."

"He's sorry, too, sir –"

"It's Will."

"Sir?"

"We checked our ranks at the door, Kim. Call us by our first names," he said, before adding with a grin, "That's an order."

"Okay, si– Will," Kim replied, trying to get used to this situation.

"You were saying?" Will prompted.

"Oh, um, Ron was really disappointed he couldn't join us."

"But I am sure that he's pleased to be meeting the ambassador," Deanna suggested.

"No, not really," Kim answered honestly. "Ron's not into that kind of thing. Which is funny. When we were in high school, we had a member of a minor royal house at our school for a while."

"And Ron was interested?" Geordi asked.

"Oh, it was so the drama!" Kim answered. "He'd been running my campaign for class president when Wally showed up, and before I knew it my campaign manager had defected to the opposition! He really was a stinker," she admitted.

"Yet you remained friends," Data observed.

"Oh yeah, Ron and I were still tight. Over the years we both did some pretty rotten things to each other, yet we always came back to the other. I'll take two, please and thank you," Kim said as she discarded. "I have to confess that while it's been a dream come true to be on _Enterprise_ this past year, it was tough not having Ron here." She didn't feel a need to add that she now knew what Ron had meant when he'd told her years ago that his summer at Wannaweep was the worst of his life since he'd been separated from her.

Deanna looked at Kim; she could sense the depth of affection. She was pretty sure that the Wally incident had hurt Kim deeply; the Betazoid wondered if Ron ever really knew how much. Yet it was even clearer that Kim had set the hurt aside long ago and that Ron had done something to make amends for his childish betrayal – and that at the appropriate time Kim felt comfortable giving as good as she got. Deanna smiled, thinking of how nice it was to know that she wasn't the only one lucky enough to have an _imzadi_. And unlike her and Will, Kim and Ron were friends before they became lovers, rather than the other way around. Deanna was sure that this relationship was a keeper.

"What I want to know," Worf said, "is whether he is a good card player."

"Ah, Mr. Worf. Always sizing up the opposition," Riker joked.

"It is a wise thing to do before one goes into battle."

"Worf," Geordi said with a laugh, "it's a game!"

"I am very competitive," the Klingon explained.

Kim laughed with the others as Worf grunted.

"Actually, Ron's a badical card player —"

"I do not understand, Kim," Data began to say as she reddened and Will and Deanna began to laugh. Geordi and Worf were confused. Finally, Data spoke up again. "Ah, I see. You are using slang. You are saying that Ron is a good player."

"Yes, Data," Kim said patiently but warmly.

"I see. Badical!" Data exclaimed.

Geordi looked at his friend. Data's sudden usage of slang made the chief engineer wonder if the android's positronic net needed a check-up.

This time Kim laughed. "Yeah, badical really is the way to describe Ron as a card player. Which is kind of amusing since he wasn't always good at poker."

Will smiled. "Something tells me there's a story here."

"And I am so not going to tell it!" Kim riposted, recalling how Ron used to be a nervous bag of tics and tip-offs. Until that one fateful night that changed their friendship.

XII.

Ron would sweat, fidget, rub the back of his neck, and laugh nervously when playing poker with Kim and some of her Academy classmates. He always lost, yet he'd gamely come back for more, just so he could spend time with Kim.

They had been in San Francisco for more than two and a half years. Kim was thriving at the Academy and Ron was excelling at the Culinary Institute. Kim quickly became a student leader and was quite popular, which was familiar territory for her. Ron benefited from being an excellent cook at a cooking school and learned that college-age women liked going on dates with a guy who was on track to become a chef. For the first time in their lives, Kim wasn't the only one saying she had, uh, other plans. Still, they made lots of time for one another. Even when dating other people, Kim and Ron wanted, indeed seemed to need, their fix of each other. They continued to hang out on their own but they would also do things with others – including play poker at the Academy.

And it was poker that had opened the door to the most serious fight they ever had. It was Kim's junior year and she was crushing on a senior. Ron reluctantly joined Kim and her beau _du jour_ and some others for a card game; he had become less enamored of seeing his long-time best friend behave like a crushing sheep around other guys. It wasn't that he _liked _liked her – at least he didn't think he did, since he had an eye on a girl at the Culinary Institute – but he liked seeing her strong and confident and when she got this way, her natural Kimness just seemed to disappear.

But, best friend that he was, he showed up for the game. And once again, he lost and lost badly. But something different happened this time. The senior mocked him and, much to Ron's annoyance, Kim actually joined in the cruel laughter. Ron stormed out of the dorm and off campus. He was furious that she would treat him, her friend of more than fifteen years, that way. She quickly seemed to realize what she'd done because there was a message of apology waiting for him when he got home. Unfortunately for Kim, he wasn't easily placated. He didn't return her call. When she called again, he snapped and told her to leave him alone, that she should go laugh it up with her Starfleet buddies; if and when he wanted to talk to her, he'd call. Kim for the first time in her life was worried that she might have alienated Ron. She'd never given much thought to Ron's ego; he'd always been so laid back. But his time at the Culinary Institute boosted his self-confidence, and he felt that he'd been slighted and taken for granted. Kim knew she'd hurt Ron and wished he'd give her another chance.

Finally, after more than three weeks, Ron called Kim. He said he was ready to talk. She said she'd talk anytime, anywhere. He said the next poker game would be fine. Kim assumed he was testing her, wanting to make sure that when he began to lose she'd be a better friend; she couldn't blame him and was prepared to be in his corner if anyone, even her crush, said anything mean.

What she expected and what happened were two different things. Kim was dumbfounded as she watched Ron play. He was impassive and expressionless. The only time he moved his hands was when he was handling his cards. She had always been able to read him like an open book, but not that evening, and that surprised and saddened her; it was as if Ron had drawn away from her. But that wasn't the only shock she received. Ron had clearly been practicing. By the end of the night he had a huge pile of chips in front of him. He looked directly at Kim's boyfriend and said in an even tone. "Tough luck, dude. Now, since I've cleaned you all out, I think it's time for me to go." Ron got up, placed a hand on Kim's shoulder and squeezed gently. "'Night, Kim," he said before leaving the room.

Kim was stunned, and was left wondering if Ron had just wanted to make a point before cutting her off completely. When she mentioned this to her boyfriend and he suggested that maybe it was for the best, Kim disagreed, saying how Ron was the best friend she could ever want. He responded by saying that he didn't understand why she needed a best friend if she had a boyfriend. He wanted to know if it was because her best friend was more important to her than her boyfriend. It took her all of five seconds to realize that that was indeed the case and they broke up that evening.

Kim returned to her room and spent the better part of the night staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. She called Ron, but he didn't answer. Finally, as morning arrived, she dozed off and fell into a fitful sleep. It wasn't long, though, before she was awakened by the sound of knocking. She staggered from her bunk and opened her door to find a grinning Ron, who was carrying a picnic basket.

"Morning, KP," he said as he came in with the hamper. "Got some hot-out-of-the-oven muffins and fresh-squeezed juice for you."

Kim watched, confused, as Ron took out the food.

"Okay, 'splain, Ron. I so don't know what's going on," she demanded.

"Whaddya mean?" he asked innocently.

"You don't talk to me for a month – then you show up like Captain Mysterious to crush us at cards then disappear. Now you're here with breakfast. I don't get it. What's the sitch?"

"The sitch, KP," Ron said, "is that a month ago, my best friend treated me like dirt."

Kim winced. Ron had never said anything like this to her before.

"You really hurt me that night, Kim. You'd hurt me before …"

Kim looked at Ron in open-mouthed shock.

"… C'mon, KP, don't look surprised. We've known each other since pre-K. Of course you've hurt me. And I know I've hurt you. But this was different. I can take a joke like the next guy, but to be made to feel that I'm only worth having around so your boyfriend can score some cheap shots at my expense, that's not cool."

"I know, Ron," Kim said, looking chagrined. "And I tried to say I was sorry …"

"Yeah, I know, KP, but this time it wasn't enough. I needed some time to clear my head. I can't begin to tell you how tweaked I was. Anyway, I didn't want to talk because I didn't want to say something stupid. Then I realized what would make me feel better would be to just wipe that smile off Buck Rogers' face and maybe remind you that I'm not a complete buffoon …"

"Ron, I never thought that," she said defensively.

"Well, that night it felt that way," he said petulantly.

Kim looked at her feet. "Ron, I am so sorry, believe me. Not talking with you these past few weeks has been awful."

"Yeah, I know, KP. It was the same for me, but it was for the best, really. And at least I had a distraction. I learned how to play poker, for real." Ron smiled thinking how much better he could have done in school had he applied himself the way he did to his crash course in cards.

Kim laughed. "You rocked, Ron."

"I am da man," he said cockily.

"Getting big heady?" she asked, relaxing now that she was confident the crisis had passed.

"Hey, I am what I is, KP!" he said with a shrug and a smile. "So now that I am a card-playing stud, you think your boyfriend's man enough to let me back into the game?"

"That's going to be a problem, Ron."

"Oh," he said frostily, assuming that her beau wouldn't want Ron at the card table and Kim would go along with that to placate him. "I see."

"Actually, I don't think you do," a grinning Kim replied, much to Ron's surprise. "He said some things about my best friend that I didn't like. And that so wasn't going to do. So I don't think I'll be playing cards with him anymore."

Ron just sat and looked at Kim, silently chiding himself for doubting her.

Kim's grin grew even wider. "But don't worry, Poker Boy, I'll find us another card game. Now, since I'm hungry, would you pass me one of those muffins, please and thank you? They smell wonderful."

Ron opened the basket and passed one of the baked goods to Kim.

"Mmmm. This is great, Ron," she said after taking a bite. "I wish you were in charge of food services here."

"No you don't, KP. I've seen the way you eat my cooking. You'd be huge."

"Ron! I can't believe you said that!"

"Hey, hey," he said defensively. "Best friend privileges!"

Kim smiled at Ron, then embraced him. "Best friend privileges, indeed."

The two best friends held one another, happy that their friendship had weathered the storm, yet aware that something had changed. They were growing up, and that meant seeing each other a bit differently.

XIII.

"Kim, are you in or are you going to fold?" Data asked.

"Huh?" Kim said, coming out of her memories.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd rather daydream about Ron than play cards, Kim! Are you in or out?" Will asked, a huge grin on his face.

Deanna also smiled, sensing from Kim the familiar feeling one had when thinking about one's _imzadi_.

Kim looked at her cards, thought about how Ron had played cards that night, then put her poker face back on. "Bring it, Will."

XIV.

As Ron prepared to ring the chime at the entrance to the captain's quarters, he found himself thinking that there had to be a joke to describe the scene: "There's this starship captain, an admiral, an ambassador, and a cook …" And for some reason he couldn't explain, he was convinced the punch line came at the expense of the cook.

Of course, Ron had accepted the invitation that Kim had been sent to convey. It wasn't as if he really had a choice; he knew the score. What was he going to say, "Sorry, Captain, but I'll pass on the nightcap with you and Mr. Diplomat?" _Oh well_, he thought as he pressed the button, _at least I have the poker game to look forward to. Assuming this all ends at a decent hour._

Ron heard the familiar voice tell him to enter. The door slid open and there, in the captain's sitting area, were Picard and Fiske, with Nechayev added in just for fun. Ron noticed that they were enjoying some wine.

"Thank you for coming, Ron," the captain said. "May I pour you a glass?"

"Uh, sure, thanks," Ron said as he sat down. He smiled at the admiral and the ambassador, then asked "You like dinner?"

"It was superb," Nechayev replied candidly. "Captain Picard is lucky you are a civilian, Mr. Stoppable, or I would have you transferred off this ship and onto my staff in short order."

"I must concur with the admiral's assessment of your skills," Fiske added with a smile that Ron found disquieting. "Starfleet should consider cloning you so it could issue competent chefs throughout the fleet. You don't know how hard it is to find a good meal in space."

"Uh, about the cloning, I, uh, don't think so, 'kay?" Ron responded. The very idea made him uncomfortable. As, for some reason, the diplomat did, too.

"Don't worry, Ron. Nobody's going to be cloned. The ambassador was joking," Picard said reassuringly, before handing Ron a glass of Cabernet.

For reasons he couldn't articulate, Ron thought that given the chance, Fiske actually would clone him – or at least do incredibly unethical things if they served his purposes. Ron sampled the wine and was quite impressed. Forgetting where he was and with whom he was visiting, he asked Picard for the bottle. Ron's eyebrows shot up. "This is so wild. I've had wine from this vineyard before. What a weird coincidence. Must be kind of neat knowing there's a vineyard with the same name as yours."

"Actually, it is my vineyard, or more accurately my family's," Picard said with some pride.

"Coolio! That means Robert Picard must be your brother; he came in last year and sold us on your wines."

"Robert is indeed my brother," Picard confirmed. "I am glad you had the chance to do business."

"You certainly do seem to get around, Mr. Stoppable," Nechayev observed.

"Yes, you do," Fiske concurred. "Which is why I wanted to meet you."

"Huh?"

"Your travels have brought you the Sword of Kahless; tomorrow they will bring you the leader of the Klingon Empire."

Ron was beginning to think he needed some fresh air. He was half convinced that Fiske was going to add something like, 'who will surrender to me; then I will rule the Empire!', to be followed by a maniacal laugh. "Well, yeah I guess you could say that," Ron finally agreed.

"What is it like?"

Ron, feeling at sea, looked to Picard and Nechayev. But they were unable to offer help. Picard, the archaeologist, was fascinated by any discovery. Nechayev merely watched, only interested in collecting information that could be of use to her. Ron was glad he couldn't be transferred to the admiral's star base.

"What do you mean? It's a bat'leth," Ron said.

"Oh, come now. If the prophecies are true, and you are the Chosen One, surely you made a connection with the Sword. Did you feel anything when you wielded it in battle?"

Ron was definitely picking up a weird vibe from Fiske. "Uh, I don't mean to be rude, or anything, but you see my face? I was a little preoccupied at the time." What Ron didn't say was that he clearly recalled the slight pulse of energy that surged through his body the first time he held the weapon, or that each time he called the Sword it was as if he was beckoning a living thing.

"Oh, yes, so sorry," Fiske said in a way that combined sincerity with a complete lack of interest in Ron's condition.

His scars and missing eye, Ron guessed, only mattered to Fiske insofar as they might be related to the Sword.

"Well," the captain said, looking at his guests. "Mr. Stoppable has a full day coming up. Perhaps we should let him go."

"I'd appreciate that, sir," Ron said, quickly getting to his feet so he could make his escape. "I'll see you all tomorrow."

Once out of the captain's quarters, Ron let out a sigh of relief. The ambassador gave him the creeps.

XV.

Given the later hour, Ron headed back to his quarters; the poker game would have ended long ago. He regretted not having a chance to play cards with Kim and the others. He entered his quarters and found a surprise.

"Kim!"

She responded with an inviting smile. Ron couldn't help but grin as he noticed that his girlfriend, who was beneath the covers of his bed, was bare-shouldered.

"I've been wanting dessert all night," Kim said seductively, "And I heard the chef's great with pastries."

"Ah, it's no big," Ron replied, completely missing Kim's double-entendre.

"That's not what I remember," she said with a leer. The two best-friends-turned-lovers looked at each other hungrily, then began laughing as they realized just how clichéd some of their banter could be.

Ron cleaned up for bed, took off his clothes and climbed in next to Kim, who began to cuddle. It had been a long day and each sensed that the other would be satisfied just being held by the other.

"You know, KP, I could get used to finding a beautiful redhead in my bed at the end of each day."

"Really?" she asked. "Do you have one in mind or are you looking for variety?"

"Well, variety is the spice of life …" Ron felt Kim tense up "… but with all that's going on in my life, I think I could use some predictability. So I'll go with the same one. You know if anyone's available?"

Kim smirked. "I might. I'll get back to you," she said before kissing him on the nose. "Ron?"

"Yeah, Kim?"

"Do you think we're moving too fast?"

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, suddenly nervous. "Do you?"

Kim began to play with one of Ron's ears. "Given what's happened over the past couple of weeks, no. Realizing you love someone you may not get to see for awhile, then almost dying with him, helps clarify things."

"I know how you feel, KP," Ron said, relief flooding over him.

"I only brought it up because you've had these quarters for two nights and I've been here for both of them …"

"You afraid Yori's going to get jealous?" Ron asked playfully.

"Ron," she deadpanned. "It's just that, I don't know, I'm having these crazy thoughts about, well, moving in with you …"

Ron gaped at Kim.

"… not right now," she said nervously, "but, well, at some point in the future. But only if you'd like it."

Ron pulled his girlfriend close to him. "I have gotta be the luckiest guy in the galaxy. I love you so much, Kim."

Kim melted into Ron. "Back atcha, Chef Boy."

The night seemed to be coming to a perfect end. They lay there quietly, lost in each other's companionship. Finally, Ron asked Kim about the poker game. She gave him a full report on each of the players so he could be prepared when he got to play. "Not surprisingly, Commander Riker is the one you'll have to watch. He's good. Very, very good."

"What about Worf?"

"Too competitive for his own good. When he has a good hand he looks like he's just backed a Romulan he's been after into a corner. You'll be able to read him like an open book," Kim replied. "You know, Ron, as I think about this, I really do owe you another apology; I can't believe it never occurred to me that all of your poker training would be useful in dealing with the Ferengi. My bad."

Ron stretched his arms and put his hands behind his head. With a smug smile, he said, "No problemo, Kimila."

Kim took advantage of Ron's position to tickle his exposed stomach.

"No fair! No fair!" he squealed as he squirmed.

"Never leave yourself open to attack by a trained Starfleet security professional," Kim said with a grin.

"Actually, I think I like leaving myself open to attacks by trained Starfleet security professionals. At least one of them," he replied.

They shared another kiss.

Then she asked him how the visit with the ambassador went. Ron filled Kim in.

"I'm telling you, KP. His Lordship is 500 light-years of bad road."

"Overreacting much, Ron?" she asked, looking at him skeptically.

"No. This guy's bad news. He was asking all sorts of questions about my bat'leth …"

"Hello, Ron! He's an archeologist who served on the Klingon homeworld!"

"He's up to something. I know it," Ron said adamantly, his arms crossed.

"Ron," Kim retorted, trying not to sound exasperated, "he's one of the most accomplished and respected diplomats in the galaxy."

"All the better cover," Ron replied.

Kim rolled her eyes. "Ron, you know what your problem is? You're thinking too much!"

"Hmmph. I may not be a trained investigator like you, Kim, but I know when I'm right. I'm telling you: Two words. Bad. Road."

Kim made a face at Ron. "Just promise me you won't weird out on him while he's here, okay?"

"Don't worry, Kim," Ron said, a little coolly. "I won't embarrass you or anyone else."

"Ron …."

He rolled over onto his side, facing away from her. She sighed, then curled up behind him, molding her body to his, and wrapped her arm around his middle.

"…. Listen to me, okay? I was not saying you're going to embarrass me. But you have to admit, you can overreact sometimes."

"Says who?"

"Hmmm. Let's see. Who was it who thought Josh Mankey was an evil monkey lord simply because his last name sounded like monkey?" she said smugly.

"Well, he could have been …"

"Ron …"

"Okay," he said, flipping over to look at Kim. "You got me."

"Yes, I do …" she said with a warm smile. "And as weird as you are, I'm not going to let you go."

_TBC …_


	15. Chapter 15

If you saw it on _KP_, Disney owns it.

* * *

I. 

Ron sauntered into Engineering to meet Kim, who was there talking with Geordi about potential modifications to _Enterprise_'s stabilizer controls.

"Yo, Kimila! Geordi!"

Kim turned and smiled at her goofy boyfriend. "I'll be with you in just a couple of minutes, Ron."

"No problemo, KP. Take your time."

Ron looked around the space, which was dominated by the imposing presence of the warp core. The thrumming of the engines was impressive, yet soothing. Gazing back at Kim, he leaned on a console.

"Self-destruct sequence initiated. _Enterprise_ will self-destruct in sixty seconds," the computer intoned.

Kim and Geordi looked up and at Ron. Both noticed his hand on a shiny, red button.

"Ron!" Kim exclaimed.

"What? I didn't do anything!" he whined.

"Mr. LaForge, what's going on?" the captain asked via the intercom.

"We had an accidental initiation of the self-destruct program. I'm disarming it …"

Geordi began working the controls.

"… Snap," he cursed.

_Self-destruct in fifty seconds._

"What's the sitch?" Kim asked, a note of worry in her voice.

"I don't know. But I can't abort the sequence."

_Self-destruct in forty seconds._

"Awww man," Ron wailed as he came up behind his best friend/girlfriend, "Kim, I'm sorry."

She turned and looked at her stricken best friend/boyfriend. Part of her wanted to deck him. Because of his carelessness, they were all going to die. But she did love him and those ears were soooo ferociously cute …

_Self-destruct in thirty seconds._

"No big, Ron," she said, wrapping his arms around his neck. "I still love you," she added before giving him a last, passionate kiss.

II.

"Well, Number One, it's been quite an adventure," Picard said, surprisingly calm given the unforeseen turn of events.

"Yes, it has, Sir. Though I have to admit my disappointment. I always wanted to sit in that chair. And another trip to Risa would have been nice …"

_Self-destruct in twenty seconds._

Picard smiled at his first officer, then rose. "Take her, Will. She's yours."

Riker smiled at his captain, impressed with how gallant Jean-Luc Picard could be, even in a situation like this.

"Thanks, Sir," he replied, a grin on this face, "but this ship is yours, and always will be. It's been my honor to serve with you."

_Self-destruct in ten seconds._

III.

Kim and Ron were still kissing when the matter/anti-matter containment field collapsed and the warp core was breached, causing a massive explosion that erased _Enterprise_ and all aboard her from existence.

IV.

With no one to stop them, Lore and Shego were able to reunite the two halves of the pan-dimensional vortex inducer. They went on a rampage of destruction before they seized control of the Federation and began a war of conquest that culminated in their ruling over the entire Alpha Quadrant with the proverbial iron fist. They weren't totally without feeling, however: they gave Drakken a solar system, with two inhabited planets, to rule; he promptly renamed the worlds Drakkanada and Drakkenville.

V.

Unfortunately for Lore, Shego, and their hapless subjects, they were unable to stop the Borg from traveling back in time to prevent Zephram Cochrane's test of the Phoenix and First Contact between humans and Vulcans. As a result, with Earth isolated and still reeling from the self-inflicted devastation of World War Three, the Collective was able to attack without opposition, teaching the people of Earth with brutal swiftness and finality that resistance is futile and that assimilation really is so the drama.


	16. Chapter 16

Many thanks to the following reviewers of chapters 14 and/or 15: Conan98002, whitem, Matri, calamite, Visigoth29527, FAH3, Yuri Sisteble, daywalkr82, campy, Molloy, spectre666, US.Steele, Ultimate Naco Topping, Louis Mielke, Nightwing 509, AtomicFire, IncrediRaider8, Darkcloud1, Ace Ian Combat, Ezbok58a, Supreme Admiral of the Web, momike, TAZER ZERO, surforst, kemiztri, Zaratan, RealityBreakGirl, MichaelCross, TexasDad, Dixon-San, jasminevr, mattb3671, Teachunsa, crashfourit, JPMod, GargoyleSama, Dresari371, Uru Baen, Acaykath, Hyperspace, CajunBear73, Classic Cowboy, Josh84, Yankee Bard, Leen1, Tarnished Blade, Canis Black, Kimberly Ann Possible, TransWarpDrive, Daeron Blackoak, momike, Emerald Dark Knight, continental-line, slyfer, Brother to Vorlons and Nikoagonistes.

Thanks to everyone else for reading!

Write a review, get a response. Seriously.

As ever, my gratitude to campy for his beta- and proof-reading.

* * *

I've posted Chapter 6 of _The Darkness Within_, the story I'm working on with the Global Writers' Association. Kim and Ron are back together … and they're bad. Very, very bad … And you can see what they look like in loving color; just follow the link from my author's profile to my devART page.

Two story recommendations for you this week: whitem has just started a KP/Star Trek Original Series cross-over called _The Logical Monkey_. Check it out. And GargoyleSama has a delightfully whack AU story called _The Past Changed_. You should check it out, too.

* * *

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney. If you saw it on _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

This chapter is dedicated to Captainkodak1, who undergoes quadruple bypass surgery today. Please keep Cap in your thoughts and prayers.

* * *

I. 

Ron and Kim both woke up with a start.

"I just had the weirdest dream," he said.

"You too?" Kim asked, snuggling up to him, signaling that she wanted to be held.

"Yeah, I, uh, well, I blew up the ship …" he said sheepishly, as he wrapped his arm around her.

"… And Shego and Data, who called himself Lore, like some cartoon villain, took over the galaxy …" she continued.

"… And these cyborg dudes …" he added, unable to repress a shudder.

"… they're called the Borg – and they assimilated everyone," she finished, almost in a whisper.

"So, we had the exact same dream?" Ron asked.

"Can't get much weirder than that," Kim replied.

With vivid images of an exploding starship in mind, Ron asserted, "KP, I am never touching anything ever again."

Kim looked at Ron and pouted.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, I hope you'll still touch some things …" she said coquettishly.

Ron grinned at Kim. "Ensign Possible, you are a very bad girl …"

"And you're going to do what about that?" she asked provocatively.

"Start touching things again, I think …" he replied, losing no time turning words into actions.

II.

Drakken was not a happy camper.

He had learned from his Cousin Eddie that Starfleet was now actively seeking the individuals responsible for the theft of the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer, and that meant he was going to have to move lairs, just to be safe. He had also learned that Galactic Justice had been called in. That could be bad insofar as it meant additional resources could be brought to the search, but it could also be good since Starfleet and GJ would probably stumble into some pointless turf battle, slowing things up. That at least gave him some time to decide where to go next.

Drakken was also unsure about the new addition to his evil family. He had always thought that he and Shego had something special. Their relationship wasn't romantic, but it was unique. Now that Lore was on the scene, the dynamic had changed. Drakken felt like Shego's father; it didn't help that the android had started calling him 'Dad' and 'Pops.'

At least his latest project was a source of satisfaction. Now that Drakken had stabilized the synthodrone matrix, he anticipated having an invincible army at his disposal. He was eager to schedule some field trials and was contemplating the best way to proceed when he heard the singing.

_Whatever Shego wants, Shego gets …_

He straightened up. _Ross and Adler?_ he asked himself.

_And little man, little Shego wants you …_

Drakken turned to see Lore behind him, looking idly at some components on the villain's workbench.

"Sorry, Pops. Didn't mean to disturb you," the android said with what Drakken thought was impressive insincerity.

"_Damn Yankees_," the mad scientist said.

"Excuse me?" Lore replied, his curiosity piqued.

"You were singing "Whatever Lola Wants" from _Damn Yankees_! I love those old shows! And I love that song, especially the Mel Tormé version."

Drakken was shocked by the change of expression on the android's face. Disdain and ennui were replaced with wonder and surprise. "You like the Velvet Fog?"

"Like him? I worship him," Drakken said with conviction.

"Blue moon …" Lore began singing.

"…. You saw me standing alone …," Drakken picked up.

"… Without a dream in my heart … ," Lore continued.

"… Without a love of my own …," Drakken responded.

"… Blue moon. You know just what I was there for, you heard me saying a prayer for …" they both began to sing in unison.

When Shego came down to the lab, she found her new lover and her long-time employer belting out "Too Darn Hot" from the old Earth musical _Kiss Me, Kate_. She was torn. On the one hand, the two seemed to have found a common ground, which might allow them to work together effectively to solve the PDVI problem; Shego was convinced that it would be easier to fabricate, rather than steal, the rest of the unit, now that Starfleet was aware that someone was actively seeking it. On the other, she began to have fears of Karaoke Night coming to Drakken's World.

Shego hated karaoke.

III.

"Ow!" Ron exclaimed as his body slammed into the mat.

"C'mon, Chosen One. Get your head in the game!" his sparring partner ordered.

Ron groaned as he sat up and looked at Kim. The passionate, playful woman with whom he'd been sharing his heart and his bed had been replaced by a gi-clad martial arts fanatic who seemed determined to show him how many different ways he could be thrown to the ground.

"Do I even have a head?" he whined, flopping on his back again.

Kim stood before him, her hands on her hips, her hair pulled back in a pony tail. The captain had excused Kim from bridge duty so Ron could get in some last-minute practice before Gowron's arrival later that day. Picard would normally have assigned that job to Worf, but the captain suspected Kim, as Ron's 'consort', might be called upon to be part of the demonstration. Besides, he assumed, and rightly so, that Ron would give his all for Kim.

"Complaining much?" she asked, her eyebrow arched.

"Only when my best friend body slams me," he said, getting up.

"Best friend, huh? Have I been demoted from girlfriend?" she asked coyly.

Ron grinned, taking her change in tenor as an invitation. He approached her. She smiled, he raised his hands to cup her face and kiss her. She continued to smile. Then she grabbed his arm, spun him around and kicked his feet out from beneath him.

Ron looked up to see Kim standing over him. Much to his annoyance, she was grinning.

"You're going to pay for that, KP."

"So am not, Ron," she said confidently.

Ron surprised Kim – and himself – by reaching back, grabbing Kim's ankles and pulling her feet out from beneath her. She hit the mat with a thud.

Ron, who had been on his back, quickly rolled over and jumped on Kim, pinning her to the floor.

"So are," he said with pleasure. "I've got you right where I want you, KP. You have been beaten by the Ronman."

"So not the drama, Ron," she said as she tapped her forehead against his nose, then smiled smugly.

"What was that for?" Ron asked, confused.

"If we were in a real fight, I would have just slammed my forehead into the bridge of your nose. You'd be in a ferocious amount of pain."

Ron sighed. "So you're saying I really didn't win?"

"Sorry. But you did have some spankin' moves, Ron. Besides, I think you'll like the consolation prize," she said as she gave him a peck on the lips.

"Booyah! I'm all about consolation prizes!" he enthused.

"I'll bet you are," she responded. "But let's see if you can win the grand prize."

IV.

Bonnie looked at her reflection in the mirror. She liked what she saw: at 22 she was as sexy and beautiful as she'd ever been. She had no qualms about putting her appearance to work for her; she had studied diplomacy and knew that the truly great diplomats used all of the assets at their disposal.

But that morning she found herself feeling dissatisfied. Knowing that Kim and Ron were together bothered her. It wasn't that she wanted Stoppable; she always thought he had looked like a dork. Now he looked like an ugly dork. Yet if she was honest, she knew he was incredibly brave. She couldn't imagine having someone care for her as much as he cared for Kim. And it wasn't as if she wanted to be Kim. She remembered how the redhead seemed to wear the same pathetic outfit almost every day during their sophomore year in high school – and now here she was wearing a uniform. That made sense – and had the benefit of preventing Kim from committing any fashion _faux pas_. Yet Bonnie knew that beneath the clothes, Kim had what it took to be a success in Starfleet. And she now had a guy she loved who loved her in kind.

Bonnie looked at her reflection in the mirror. She knew she wanted something like that. And she suspected she wouldn't find that with Tom Carter.

V.

Montgomery Fiske looked up at the two Section 31 agents who stood before him.

Will Du handed the Englishman a data padd.

"The scans you requested are there," he said.

"And?" he asked phlegmatically, concealing his eagerness to know.

"There were highly unusual readings at the quantum level, sir."

"So, it's true …" Fiske said, a note of wonder creeping into his voice.

"Yes. Ron Stoppable would appear to be in possession of the Blade of Kahless."

"Fascinating," he said. "It shall be most interesting to see how Chancellor Gowron reacts to this news."

"Indeed, sir," Will replied. "His reaction could have profound implications for the security of the Federation."

"Indeed, it could," Fiske agreed. "Mr. Du, Ms. Tanaka, I must ask you not to report this discovery to your superiors just yet. I would prefer that we had a firmer grasp on how our Klingon friends react to this situation before anything was said to Starfleet, the Federation Council – or Mr. Stone."

"Yes, sir," the two agents said in unison. They had both been surprised to learn that the ambassador knew not only of Section 31, but of the identities of its personnel. That told them that Fiske was exceedingly well connected and not to be trifled with.

"Very well, you may go. Thank you for your assistance," he said, dismissing his visitors, not feeling a need to tell them that what he now wanted to know was whether Ron Stoppable was able to exercise any control over the legendary weapon.

VI.

"You seem troubled," Will Du said. "I would have assumed that someone who received notice of her promotion earlier in the day would be in a positive state of mind."

"I feel that I have betrayed a trust," Yori confessed.

"You were doing your duty," he replied with all the emotion of a Vulcan.

"I have acted without honor," she said flatly. She had searched Ron's quarters and scanned his belongings. She searched Kim's things, too.

"Lieutenant, we do not have the luxury of worrying about 'honor.' You know that compromises must be made if we are to protect Starfleet and the Federation, that it is our job to do the work that others will not do; surely, as a ninja, you can appreciate that."

"I do not see how Ron Stoppable could endanger the Federation," she said, recalling his goofy countenance. "He is but a cook."

"You surprise me with your naivete. He is no longer just a cook. He is in possession of the most potent and venerated artifact in Klingon society, a fact that I cannot imagine will be well received on Qo'noS. And, we do not know how Stoppable might make use of it. He could prove to be a truly formidable threat. What the ambassador asked us to do was prudent."

Yori looked at her colleague. Though she supposed he was right, she was not fully convinced.

VII.

"Sir, we are being hailed by Chancellor Gowron."

"I'll take it my ready room, Ensign," the captain said.

"Picard." the Klingon snarled in greeting.

"Chancellor Gowron. How nice to see you," the captain replied, unwilling to be goaded by his interlocutor.

"Where is the pretender?" the chancellor demanded.

"If you are referring to the holder of the Sword of Kahless, he is preparing to meet with you," Picard explained. "After the demonstration, I hope you will be able to stay for dinner."

"I will not be boarding your ship, Picard. You will send him to me," the Klingon said.

"I am sorry, Chancellor, but that will not be possible," Picard said firmly.

"What! Why?" the Klingon snapped.

"Do you wish for me to speak as captain of a Federation starship or as the Arbiter of Succession?" Picard asked.

"You can be as trying as a Romulan, Picard," Gowron answered.

"I will take that as both an insult and a compliment," the captain said. The two men looked at one another's images for a few moments before Picard continued, this time in a conciliatory tone. "Gowron, I do not think it would be prudent to send a human wielding the Sword of Kahless onto a Klingon vessel until this issue is resolved to your satisfaction. Surely you would agree that there are those who would attempt to manipulate this situation to their advantage – and your detriment."

Gowron grunted before he replied. Grudgingly, he agreed with Picard's logic. "I will see you aboard _Enterprise_ as soon as we arrive at Khitomer."

VIII.

"You aren't really planning on wearing that," Kim said in disbelief as she entered Ron's quarters to see him in the uniform of a Klingon warrior.

"I am indeed," Ron replied with pride. "Worf said I needed to dress to impress. You gotta admit, I am da man!"

Kim snorted. "Ron: Klingon. Clothing. Can you say 'fashion disaster'?"

Ron pouted. "I think it looks pretty cool," he said defensively.

Kim rolled her eyes. "That's one way to describe it."

"Hmmph. Some best friend/consort you turned out to be," Ron muttered. He turned, looked at himself in the mirror, then sighed. Then he began to take off the uniform.

Kim could see from his reflection that she'd hurt her boyfriend's feelings. She came behind him and wrapped her arms around him. "Ron, I'm sorry. I'm just not used to seeing you this way. Fasten that buckle and let me take another look." She then stepped back and looked at him with fresh eyes. "Pick up the bat'leth, please and thank you."

Ron did as instructed.

Kim set aside eighteen years of preconceptions of how Ron Stoppable should look and found herself seeing him with different eyes. She recalled how she felt like she'd been hit by a photon torpedo the first time she realized she was looking at Ron in a non-platonic fashion. Now, she was having a similar reaction. She already knew Ron was brave; he'd proven that more than once. But now, she realized to her surprise, her goofy boyfriend _was_ a warrior. She didn't know if it was the scars and the eye-patch or the blade in his hand. But something told her he had a right to wear that uniform.

She smiled.

"Now, what?" Ron asked testily, assuming Kim was going to make another cutting remark.

She stood before him, her hands on her hips. "You know, what, Ron?" she asked. "You actually look spankin'."

"Really?" he asked.

"So really," Kim said as she gave him a peck on the lips. "Now let's go," she added in a more no-nonsense tone as she took his hand and led him to the door. "You are so not going to be late for your meeting with the Chancellor."

IX.

Picard watched as Gowron and his party of disruptor-carrying, bat'leth-wielding Klingons materialized on the transporter pad. The room was feeling awfully small to the captain, who was accompanied by Nechayev and Fiske. Kim, who would normally have been with Picard in her new capacity as ADC, was with Ron and Worf in Cargo Bay Three, which had been emptied for the demonstration.

"Welcome aboard, Chancellor," the captain said in greeting.

"This had better be good, Picard," Gowron snapped as he came down from the platform.

"I believe you will find your visit to be a prudent investment of your time," the captain replied diplomatically. "I believe you know Admiral Nechayev …"

The compact blonde flashed the Klingon a steely glare which caused him to grunt in appreciation. He knew Nechayev was tough as nails and respected her for that. He secretly thought she'd make a good Klingon.

"… and allow me to introduce Ambassador Fiske."

Fiske dipped his head, then extended his hand to the visitor. "A great pleasure, Chancellor."

Gowron eyed the ambassador suspiciously. He didn't trust diplomats, regardless of whether they were human or Klingon. He grunted in response, then looked directly at his host. "We have wasted enough time, Picard. Take me to him."

"If you will follow me," the captain said as he led the party out of the transporter room, wearing a poker face that would have done Riker proud. Picard knew he couldn't betray any of his thoughts on what was about to unfold, particularly his concern about the impact the ancient bat'leth could have on Klingon politics and his hope that Ron Stoppable was up to the task at hand.

X.

"You can do this, Ron. I know you can," Kim said reassuringly, concerned about Ron's last-minute case of jitters. "Just keep your …"

"… head in the game. I know, KP," he said nervously. Ron wasn't worried so much about meeting the chancellor of the Klingon Empire as he was letting down Kim, the captain, and Worf. He kept trying to clear his mind the way Worf had taught him to, but he was finding it difficult. He only hoped that he'd be able to summon the Sword in Gowron's presence.

"Ron," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder, "you know why I think you can do this? Because you're my Potential Boy."

Ron began to relax, then chuckled; Kim had been calling him that since they were in tenth grade.

"Okay, KP," he said, rolling his neck and flexing his arms. "Potential Boy is in the house."

"Perhaps, since 'Potential Boy is in the house,' he would like to do some more exercises before Gowron arrives," Worf suggested.

"I don't think so," Ron replied. "I think I'd rather marinate until the Big Guy gets here."

"Marinate?" Worf asked. "You are planning to cook? But Gowron will be here shortly."

"Worf, Worf, Worf," Ron said. "Marinating. It's like chilling at warp speed."

_Chilling at warp speed?_ Kim wondered, arching a questioning eyebrow as she looked at Ron, who was looking around the cargo bay.

Ron found a spot, sat down, stretched out his legs, put his arms behind his head, and closed his eye. "See? This is marinating. It's like the meditating you taught me about."

"Meditation is a discipline," Worf countered. "You are … lounging."

"I am not!" Ron protested. "What I'm doing is the fruit of years of practice, right KP?"

Kim was becoming mildly concerned that Ron was nows becoming too relaxed; he really was a master of marinating. She had seen him zone out and fall asleep in some of the most unlikely places during the many years they'd known each other. She was definitely worried about Worf, who was beginning to look like he was ready to have a heart attack. "Oh yes, definitely," she agreed before crossing her arms across her chest. "Now get up and stop playing around," she said in a voice that brooked no dissent.

"Geez, what's the good of being the Chosen One if you can't even marinate for a few?" Ron grumbled as he grabbed the bat'leth and stood up.

Kim put her hands on Ron's shoulders and looked him in the eye. Softly, she said, "Ron, please remember that not everyone here knows you like we do, okay?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"No prancing," Worf growled. "No chanting 'I am da man.'"

"What, you guys want me to be a stiff?"

"No," Worf said in a commanding tone. "We want you to be a Klingon."

Ron, looked at Worf, then Kim. "'Sha, don't worry," he said confidently. "I'm all about being a Klingon."

XI.

The delegation arrived just after Ron reassured his two companions.

Ron, Kim, and Worf stood in the center of the large, empty cargo bay. Picard led the group towards the waiting trio.

"Chancellor Gowron," the captain said, "allow me to introduce Mr. Ronald Stoppable, the wielder of the Blade of Kahless."

Gowron looked at Ron for a moment. A broad, mocking smile broke out across his face. Then he began to laugh. Ron stood his ground, Worf's eyes narrowed to slits, and Kim seethed.

"This, this … one-eyed boy … is the Chosen One?" the Klingon leader said, prompting laughter from his party.

Ron took deep breaths. _This guy's no different from the bullies in D Hall_, he thought. _I'm not gonna let him get to me._

"And look who he has stand by his side!" Gowron taunted. "A discommended Klingon as his sword-bearer and a little girl as his consort."

Ron's eye flashed. It was one thing for someone to insult him; it was another matter if the target was one of his friends. And if it was Kim …

"Dude, how'd someone so ugly get to be leader of the Klingon Empire? You'd think with 160 billion Klingons to choose from they could have done better," Ron snapped.

Gowron's smile faded and was replaced by something hostile. "Be careful, boy. You do not know who you are speaking to."

"Back atcha, pal," Ron retorted.

Gowron allowed himself a grin, before he turned to Picard. "Kahless help him if he is as stupid as he is ugly. But Kahless help his enemies if he is as brave. Let us start."

Worf proceeded to one corner of the bay with the bat'leth, Ron walked to the other and a still tweaked Kim joined Picard and the others. To keep her mind off the insults she, Worf, and Ron had just been dealt she studied the members of the party. Picard's face was a mask; Kim, like every other officer on board, knew that meant the captain was anxious. Nechayev watched the scene with detachment; to her, Ron was just a pawn in a game of intergalactic political chess. Fiske was clearly engrossed in what was happening; that didn't surprise her, given his interest in Klingon history. Finally, she noted that the Klingons had arrayed themselves along the bulkhead and was surprised when she found Gowron by her side. She did not care for the way he looked at her; his smile was disturbing.

_You can do this, Ron!_ she thought as she focused on her BFBF, wishing she were a telepath so she could send her thoughts to him. At least she could flash him a smile.

Ron appreciated Kim's gesture and nodded. He let his gaze linger on her, as if in looking at her he could actually draw strength from her, then focused his attention on Worf and the bat'leth. The Klingon set the blade down on the floor. Ron extended his arms, flexed his wrists, and opened his hands, ready to receive the weapon.

All eyes were on him.

XII.

Shego looked at Lore and Drakken with furrowed brow. "You mean to tell me you guys really can't make this thing?"

"Well, we could …" Lore answered with a disarming grin.

"… But we've talked about the supplies that would be needed," Drakken added. "Since the part already exists, it would be so much easier to outsource its fabrication …"

"You mean steal it," she interjected.

"'Steal' has such an anti-social connotation," Drakken noted huffily.

"Whatever," she said. "Ya know, Doc, it's not like you ever run these errands. Maybe this time you should go …"

"Shego! That would completely up-end the villain-sidekick relationship! You know that such things are simply not done," he said with finality. "We must each stick with our strengths: I plan galactic domination, you acquire the resources needed to implement that plan.

"Huh. I think you're too scared to go!" she taunted. "Some villain you are. Scaredy cat!"

"Shego, remember what I told you about hurting with our words."

Lore began laughing.

"What's so funny, Tin Man?" Shego snapped as she glared at him. Drakken joined in giving Lore the hairy eye.

"You two. You sound like an old married couple …"

Shego bristled, clearly finding the idea distasteful while Drakken was gob-smacked.

"Shego," Lore said, sounding reasonable, "to fabricate the other half of the PDVI, we'd have to 'acquire' a number of components. Either way, we'd be visiting secure installations. So why not just do some one-stop shopping? We know where to go, after all."

That's what bothered Shego. If Big Daddy's information, which she'd just received in exchange for the report she'd provided on the Sword of Kahless, was reliable, and she had no reason to think it was anything but, the PDVI was in the possession of the Vulcan Science Institute.

And it wasn't being stored at some remote location.

According to Big Daddy, the vortex inducer was located at the Institute's headquarters, which were situated in the heart of the Vulcan capital.

XIII.

Ron looked across the cargo bay at the bat'leth with his good eye. Taking deep breaths, he strained to calm himself. He really wished there weren't so many people present. He extended his arm and opened his hand, willing the weapon to him.

Nothing happened.

"C'mon, Magic Sword, c'mon," Ron muttered.

He flinched when he heard the snort. It was Gowron. "You waste my time with this cook, Picard!" Then, as if to infuriate Ron, the Klingon leader said to Kim, "I hope your mate performs better in bed, girl."

Ron didn't need to look at Kim to know she'd be both mortified and angry. The comment made him feel irate, igniting his desire to defend her honor. Suddenly, the Sword leapt off the deck and flew into his outstretched hand.

Ron turned to Gowron and glared at the Klingon. As if sensing Ron was going to snap out something harsh, Kim subtly shook her head. He could almost her say, "Ron, keep your head in the game!"

"Impressive," the Klingon leader said grudgingly, unaware of the unspoken dialogue between Kim and Ron. Turning to Picard, Gowron growled, "How do I know this is not some sort of trick? You could be using tractor beams to move the weapon."

Picard arched an eyebrow. "And what have we to gain by such a subterfuge?"

"I do not know, Picard. But you humans can be devious," he said, a cold smile spreading across his face. "There is, however, a way to prove that your cook is not a pretender …" he added.

None of the Federation representatives were prepared for what happened next. The Klingon officer who had been standing to the other side of Kim slammed her back against the bulkhead; as he was doing that he gracefully whisked out his bat'leth and brought it to her throat.

XIV.

"I still cannot believe I let you talk me into this," Shego groused.

"I kind of like it," Lore said.

"I look, I look … " she sputtered.

"Like a Vulcan cut your hair?" he suggested impishly.

"Arrgh! I look like Drakken cut my hair with a bowl! Do you know how long it took me to grow my hair that long?" Shego flinched every time she saw her reflection.

Lore ignored Shego's rantings. "For what it's worth, you could easily win the Miss Vulcan pageant."

Shego glared at Lore. "You're not funny."

"Oh, come on. Bunch of ice-cube cold Vulcan women competing in the swimsuit competition? It's a very funny image."

Shego continued to glare at her partner. "Shut up and let me do your ears …"

XV.

"Gowron! What is the meaning of this?" Picard demanded. "I must protest! Release Ensign Possible at once."

"Not until I am done with her," he said menacingly. "She is as much a part of this as he is. I did not tell her to be his mate."

Kim controlled her breathing. She could feel the cold steel of the weapon against her skin; the Klingon could slice off her head with one thrust. "It's no big, Captain," she said calmly before looking at Ron. "I'll be okay."

Gowron approached her and looked into her eyes. "Tell me, Consort, do you trust him with your life?"

Kim stared defiantly at the Klingon leader. "Yes," she replied.

He grinned at her, then looked at Ron, who had held his ground. "Your woman believes in you, Pretender. Would you fight for her?"

Kim, surprising Gowron, snorted. "He already has," she said.

The chancellor glowered at her, then turned to Ron. "What say you, human? Or does your female speak for you?" he asked, eliciting laughter from his aides.

"Yes," Ron said evenly, hiding his desire to run and hide. All of his fantasies about being an action hero were collapsing under the weight of harsh reality. Right now, being a cook seemed heroic enough. Except that Kim needed him to be something more. "I'll fight for her."

"Good," Gowron said with a glint in his eye before he raised his arm. In response to his signal, three armed Klingon warriors stepped out and surrounded Ron.

Kim's bravado faded. It was one thing for her to be brave when she was in danger, but it was another matter when he was at risk. "Ron, don't do this," she murmured.

Ron was lost, not sure what to do.

Gowron sneered, then withdrew his knife. He grabbed Kim;s jaw and brought the blade up to her face. "Time is wasting, Pretender," he warned as he drew it along her cheek, drawing blood and a startled gasp. "Prove yourself, or I will make sure she looks like you."

Ron, seeing the long crimson gash on Kim's cheek, was gripped by rage – and something else he couldn't quite explain. He glared at Gowron through narrowed eye, then hissed, "Dude, you are going down for that." He turned his attention to Kim, exchanged a glance with her, both giving and receiving strength, then focused on the three Klingons. "So, which one of you wants to get his butt kicked first?" he asked, surprised only that he believed the threatened action wasn't hyperbole. For reasons he couldn't explain, Ron Stoppable was convinced that he'd be able to take down every Klingon on the ship if need be.

None of his opponents volunteered for single combat; instead, they moved in together. Without thinking, Ron knew to drop down to the deck. On his back but still holding onto the Sword, he kicked out at the Klingon before him, knocking his assailant off balance and distracting the others. Ron quickly rolled out of the warrior's way and sprung to his feet. No longer surrounded, and now facing a line of three, he could focus on picking them off individually. He swung his bat'leth around and hooked blades with the warrior closest to him, pulling away the Klingon's weapon and tossing it to the side; he then flipped the Sword of Kahless around and brought it around in a swinging arc, slamming the blunt side of the weapon into the Klingon's head, knocking him down and out.

Ron now found himself facing the remaining pair of Klingons, who grinned at him cruelly. They began to advance on Ron; he knew he couldn't let them back him into a corner. He yelled and rushed the one on his left, his blade held high. The Klingon was surprised for just a moment, but that was all the time Ron needed. He quickly spun to his right and kicked the second Klingon in the gut, then, still pivoting, met the oncoming blade of the first of his opponents. Steel clashed with steel, the sound echoing throughout the spacious hold. Ron was already sweating profusely and his arm muscles were screaming in pain; his workouts with Worf and Kim had not prepared him for this kind of exertion. But he knew he had no alternative, not while Kim was being threatened. The Klingon was larger than Ron and, much to the latter's discomfort soon had Ron where he didn't want to be – pressed against a wall, his only defense the Sword which he was using in a seemingly futile attempt to push back the larger, stronger man.

Ron decided that the time to play dirty had arrived. He didn't know much about Klingon anatomy, but hoped that if, like human males, they had two eyes, two arms, two legs, they might also have vulnerable features in analogous locations. He brought his knee up sharply and learned that Klingons and humans did indeed have that piece of anatomy in common. His attacker's eyes rolled up into his skull as he staggered backwards. Ron then did what he'd done to the first of his opponents and used his blade handle to hit the Klingon's head.

Ron now faced just one Klingon. He could see that the man was looking at him with a bit more respect than had been the case when the fight began. Ron realized that wasn't necessarily a good thing. _So much for being misunderestimated_, he thought ruefully.

XVI.

Kim didn't care about her bloody cheek or the cold steel pressed against her skin. She was totally engrossed in the fight, amazed by what Ron was doing. What she was witnessing simply shouldn't have been possible. It wasn't so much a matter of whether Ron was courageous enough to do what he was doing. He had suppressed his fears often enough in the past, most recently when he had saved her life on the moon. But the skills he was demonstrating were a wholly different matter. Learning how to fight like a Klingon Warrior was something that took years of training; it wasn't the same as learning how to wear a poker face. Yet Ron, who had first picked up a bat'leth only days earlier, was fighting like a master. She was excited that he was winning; she had no doubt the third Klingon was about to go down. But she was also frightened, wondering what effect the Sword might be having on Ron.

XVII.

Ron cursed as the third Klingon pressed his attack. The warrior had already drawn blood, slicing the front of Ron's Klingon uniform, and drawing a thin line of blood from his sternum.

XVIII.

Montgomery Fiske, was wondering the same thing about Ron as Kim.

For more than thirty years he had been fascinated by the legend of the Sword of Kahless. Now he was seeing that everything he had heard was true. There were only two explanations for how this buffoon could be doing what he was doing: either he was a highly trained warrior who kept his abilities hidden from all around him, or he was being guided by the spirit of Kahless. Fiske had done his research on Ron Stoppable: the ambassador had not believed that Ron led a secret life and his contacts in Section 31 had confirmed that. Ron Stoppable was a chef and nothing more.

Fiske was now determined to possess the Sword of Kahless. With its power at his disposal, he would be able to fulfill a promise he had made long ago – and become Supreme Ruler of the Alpha Quadrant.

XIX.

"Okay, what gives, Golden Boy?" Shego asked as she and Lore settled into the cockpit of her green-and-black spacecraft.

"What do you mean?" the android asked.

"You're bouncing around like a kid in a candy shop. Why are you so excited?"

"Because I like to play dress up?" he asked, tapping the points of his _faux_ ears.

"Try again," Shego said evenly, not wanting to be reminded that she too was now disguised as a Vulcan. She was still tweaked about her hair, but had at least calmed down. Earlier she had been in a towering rage.

"You think the Vulcans ever got around to telling the authorities on Earth that they actually had the vortex inducer?"

Shego thought about that for a moment. Vulcans and humans, as odd a couple as there was in the galaxy, had become each other's most trusted allies. Yet she recalled the early days of the relationship, of the suspicion and mistrust, of the secrets each kept. The PDVI would have aroused every Vulcan fear about how dangerous humans could be; and if the Vulcans had acted on that fear, it would have stirred latent human resentments about Vulcan condescension. If she were the Vulcans she wouldn't want word of the PDVI to get out after all this time.

"You're going to blackmail them?" she asked.

Lore grinned. "I might. You have to admit -- it would be fun to make 'em sweat."

XX.

A gasping, panting Ron stood over the prostrate forms of his three unconscious opponents, unable to believe that he was responsible for their condition.

"Well done," Gowron said, a grotesque smile on his face. "It seems that you are the Chosen One," He sheathed his knife and signaled his aide to lower his bat'leth. _"Qapla'!"_

The other Klingons, Worf included, joined Gowron in saluting Ron.

As this was happening, Nechayev, who had retrieved a first aid kit, tended to Kim's wound. The admiral's revulsion over what she believed to be the barbarity of Klingons had overwhelmed any annoyance she had earlier felt towards Kim. In fact, the young officer had impressed her again by showing just how gutsy and calm she could be under fire.

Ron's response to the Klingons was to ignore them. He dropped the Sword, stepped over one of the unconscious warriors and trotted over to Kim. Nechayev, much to the surprise of all who knew her, stepped aside, allowing Kim to embrace Ron. At that moment, neither cared about diplomatic protocol or Starfleet SOP.

"How you doing, KP?" he whispered gently, as he reached up and caressed her good cheek; he knew he shouldn't touch the newly treated wound, or he would have stroked that side instead. "I freaked out inside when he …"

"It's so not the drama," she replied softly, cutting him off. "You were incredible," she added, before kissing him on his scarred cheek, "You really are my Warrior Chef. Though that doesn't mean you can forget to get that cut of yours checked out."

"Why don't we make it a date and visit Sickbay together?" Ron asked.

"You're on," she agreed.

"Ha! He is a true warrior!" Gowron exclaimed as he clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Victorious in combat, he celebrates with his mate!"

Ron's head jerked up. He pulled away from Kim, and with all of the grace of a cook with less than one week's combat training, spun around and delivered a sloppy, but well aimed, roundhouse right at the Klingon leader's jaw.

"Ron!" Kim exclaimed.

"Mr. Stoppable!" the captain barked at the same time.

He ignored them both and went after the staggering Klingon, jumping him and pushing him to the deck, ignoring he disruptors that were now being pointed at him. He extended his left hand, his palm open, and the Sword flew into his grasp. He then held the blade against the Klingon leader's neck.

Ron stared into Gowron's large, bug eyes. "Do not ever – and I mean ever – touch her again or I'll kill you."

Gowron returned Ron's gaze, smiled and began to laugh.

"You don't believe me?" Ron asked. "Note serious face."

Gowron continued to laugh and Ron tensed up.

"Ron, get off him. Now," Kim said, kneeling down beside him, worried that her boyfriend was about to start an interstellar war.

"You are not only the Chosen One," Gowron finally said, "But inside that scrawny human body you are a Klingon! Tonight, we will celebrate. You and your consort will dine aboard my ship and we will sing the praises of the House of Stoppable!"

Ron, feeling totally confused, responded to the gentle pressure of Kim's hand on his shoulder and got up. He looked back at Gowron, the Klingons, the Federation and Starfleet personnel and shook his head. He looked to Kim, who came to his side and glanced at Picard, who nodded at her; she then took his hand, and they made for the exit. They left the cargo bay and headed to Sickbay.

They walked down the corridor in silence. Finally, after they had boarded the turbolift, Ron spoke.

"Sorry, KP," he said.

"Why are you sorry?" she asked.

"I lost it back there. I promised you, the captain, and the admiral that I wouldn't embarrass anyone, and then I go and beat down the leader of the Klingon Empire," he said, before stopping. Looking at his feet, he mumbled. "And I went all caveman on you."

Kim smiled affectionately at Ron. She had been concerned when Ron took down Gowron. And she was not usually one for being treated as a damsel in distress. Yet Ron recognized what he'd done._ Gowron so deserved that, and having a guy who wants to stand up for me isn't the worst thing in the galaxy_, she thought.

"Stop," she ordered the turbolift as she took his hands. "Ron, look at me."

Reluctantly, he complied.

"You did lose it in there. And you know I'm not some delicate little missy," she said, much to his chagrin. "But I think it was pretty obvious that Gowron respected you for what you did. And I think it's ferociously sweet that you want to protect me. It's good to know you always have my back."

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes, really," she said releasing his hands and embracing him.

"Ya know, Kim. We seem to have some good talks in these lifts."

"Yes, we do. And even better hugs."

"Well, I'm all about better hugs …"

"And that's one of the reasons why you're my Chosen One, Ron."

XXI.

Kim and Ron parted ways after leaving Sickbay, Kim to take her post on the bridge, Ron to check on his galley.

Ron wondered what the reaction of Kim's fellow officers would be to her scar. Dr. Crusher had been impressed with Admiral Nechayev's use of the emergency medical kit but said that Gowron's handiwork would require a dermoregenerative procedure that would require Kim to spend 24 hours in Sickbay. Kim had no interest in missing the dinner with Gowron and she and Ron agreed that the scar would probably give her more standing with what Ron called "Gowron and his peeps."

He thought of Kim's cheek. Although he hated that Kim was hurt, he thought the scar made her look more dangerous and thus even sexier, if that was even possible. He shook his head, smiling at his good fortune in being Kim's boyfriend, admitting he would find Kim wearing a paper bag over her head sexy.

"Excuse me."

Ron, turned, roused from his reverie by the sound of Worf's voice. He was stunned to see that the big, burly Klingon had morphed into a short, burly … pink freaky thing, and all in the space of an hour. "Worf?" Ron asked in amazement. "What happened to you?"

"I believe there is some confusion," Ron's visitor said, approaching him with an extended paw. "My name is Rufus."

"My bad. You sound exactly like Mr. Worf," Ron replied before shaking Rufus' paw and introducing himself. "I'm Ron. Ron Stoppable. Nice to meet you, dude. So, what brings you to Casa de la Maison Stoppable House?"

The naked mole rat looked quizzically at Ron before speaking. "I do not mean to intrude, but I was hoping I might ask a favor of you."

"Sure," Ron said, puzzled.

"Would I be able to reserve a time to bake cookies?" Rufus asked.

A huge grin broke out on Ron's ravaged face. "You don't like having them come out of a wall?"

Rufus crinkled his nose. "I will concede that the replicator is an impressive and invaluable piece of technology. However, there is no substitute for a fresh-from-the-oven Toll House cookie."

"I'm with you there, man. The replicator's okay, but there are some things it just can't do right," he said with a shake of the head. "Do not even get me started on replicators and cheese …"

Rufus' eyes opened wide as he sensed the presence of a kindred spirit. "You are a cheese aficionado?"

"Aficionado? I am cheese's number one fan," Ron said proudly. "I was digging cheese long before I ever got into cooking. I still remember my first dollop of cheese at Bueno Nacho …"

"Bueno Nacho," The mole rat said reverently. "The Promised Land …"

"Yes! Exactly!" Ron enthused. "KP doesn't get it; she thinks that because I'm a chef I should have outgrown BN. But there is nothing like a double order of grande sized chimeritos with extra cheese. Oh, for a burrito with Five Alarm Diablo sauce," Ron said wistfully.

"Perhaps I can be of help," Rufus said eagerly.

"Huh?"

"I have brought a supply of Diablo sauce with me. If you would be willing to make burritos, I would be honored to share my sauce with you."

Ron's grin grew even wider. "Rufus, buddy, you got a deal!"

XXII.

"Oh, come on. Cheer up, Shego! This is like a family outing."

"Whatever," she said indifferently. She was still tweaked about having to cut her hair for this little adventure. And as if wasn't bad enough that she and Lore were soon to attempt to break into a facility in the center of the Vulcan capital, they were accompanied by two of Drakken's synthodrones. Dr. D suggested that this would be perfect opportunity to test his new creations; Lore readily agreed once he found that the synthodrones could take on the appearance of any bipedal humanoid species. They were an engineering marvel – yet while they looked and sounded real, they were still synthetic, and that gave Shego the willies. _At least they're not clones_, she thought.

"Be cheerful, Shego. You need to set a good example for Stan and Ollie, you know."

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"What, bantering with you?"

"No, the prospect of this mission."

"Well, why not? It's not everyday that I get to look forward to laying a heap of freak on the Federation," he said with a combination of glee and malice that even Shego found a tad disturbing. She wondered if it was possible for an android to be insane.

XXIII.

Lieutenant Commander Edward Lipsky, Starfleet Corps of Engineers, had just dropped down onto the couch in the sitting area of his quarters at Starbase 52 and cranked up the Rigelian heavy metal when the door chimed. He decided to ignore the intrusive sound; he had had a long day and was now off duty and really didn't want to be bothered. Unfortunately for Ed, his unexpected visitors were persistent. The chime kept ringing, and, despite his best efforts to drown out the sound by turning up the volume of his music, he was unable to avoid it, thanks to the modulation sequence that allowed the doorbell to identify a frequency that could be heard by the room's occupant, regardless of what other sounds or noise might be present.

"Come in," he yelled, not bothering to tell the computer to mute the music (he was listening to his favorite album, _Warped_, by the Dead Sareks). As the door slid open, Ed rose to greet his unwanted guests. He was surprised to see them pointing phasers at him.

He was even more surprised when one of them shot him.

XXIV.

"My … sources … have provided me with a valuable lead in the case; I will need a shuttle so I may proceed to Drakken's World to continue the investigation," Will said to Captain Picard.

"Will you require the assistance of Ensign Possible?" Picard asked, still resenting the way the case had been taken away from his officer.

"That will not be necessary, sir, though I could use a pilot. I believe she would be able to adequately discharge that function, allowing me to continue my analysis while en-route," he replied, ignoring just how competent a pilot Kim had proven herself to be.

"Mr. Du, I am not going to have my helmsman serve as your chauffeur," he said acidly. "I will, however, find an officer to accompany you."

"Thank you, sir. I would be most appreciative. I plan to depart within the hour."

"Very well, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

Picard grimaced as he watched Du leave his ready room. He pressed his comm badge and asked Riker to join him. Moments later the doors slid open and _Enterprise_'s first officer entered.

"Have you spent any time talking with Lieutenant Du?" the captain asked.

"Can't say I have," Riker replied as he took a seat.

"I think he may be the most insufferable junior officer I have ever met," Picard offered, before recounting his conversation.

Riker shook his head; _Du sounds like a piece of work_, he mused, then smiled. "I think I may have just the right officer to send with him," Riker said, "Supremely confident, quite able …" _and looking to make up some lost ground._

XXV.

Tom Carter checked his tricorder as he waited outside the shuttle. Riker had called him just forty-five minutes ago and offered him the chance to participate in an important away mission. He'd been puzzled when the first officer warned him that his most difficult task would be to make sure that his partner's ego was kept in check. It all sounded odd, but he didn't care. He welcomed the chance to get off the ship, which now carried two ex-girlfriends.

He still couldn't believe that Bonnie had dumped him. She'd been very pleasant about the matter, using all of the tried and true explanations: difficulty of long-distance relationships, better to just be friends, blah blah blah. As he recalled the conversation, he began to get angry. He blamed this latest development on Kim. He was convinced she had turned Bonnie against him, just as she had turned Riker against him, too. _But at least Riker saw through that_, he thought, _Otherwise, I wouldn't have been assigned to this mission._

XXVI.

"Worf, you gotta come," Ron almost whined, stunned by the Klingon's polite, yet firm, refusal to join his party on Gowron's ship that evening.

"I cannot." He reluctantly explained his discommendation.

"That is so ferociously unfair," Kim said.

Ron pursed his lip, then brightened. "Heyyy, I've got an idea. You can be part of my House. Then you'd be Chauncey."

"Chauncey," the Klingon said, betraying confusion and skepticism.

"He's saying that you'd be in good standing again," Kim explained.

"I cannot allow you to do that," Worf said. "You would bring dishonor onto your name."

"'Sha," Ron said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Having you as one of my posse would be an honor. You've taught me everything I know about being Klingon."

"No, it is not possible," Worf stated.

"Dude, you forget who you're talking to," Ron said, throwing his arm around Worf's shoulder.

"Hmm. You are the Chosen One," he conceded.

"I am what I is," Ron said cheerily.

"Then I thank you. You honor me with your confidence," Worf said.

XXVII.

Kim looked at herself in the full-length mirror. "So what do you think?" she asked, turning to Ron.

"Hot. You are definitely hot, KP," Ron said with a lop-sided grin.

"I thought I was supposed to look dangerous," she retorted.

"Oh, you look dangerous, too. I just have other priorities," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Ron …" she said sternly, knowing that even if they were wearing odd alien outfits, she and Ron were about to participate in a major diplomatic event.

He held up his hands in a sign of surrender. "KP, trust me, you look badical. It's much better than the dress."

Kim was wearing the uniform of a Klingon warrior. Gowron had sent her a Klingon dress, which Kim had reluctantly braced herself to wear and had even donned, until Ron objected, winning himself a year's supply of brownie points from his girlfriend. "No way you're wearing that," he had said. "'Consort' in Rondo-ese means 'partner.' You're a warrior, not a housewife …"

Kim's expression softened. "Thanks. We should get someone to take a holopic of us," she said, now running her fingers along the edge of the sash he was wearing over his uniform, along with a long cloak; Worf had explained he had the right to wear the latter as the head of a Klingon House.

"A fine idea, Kim," Ron said, wrapping his arms around Kim. "It'll be just like class picture day!"

That got him a scowl instead of the kiss he'd been hoping for. "You so don't want to go there, Ron," she warned.

"Aw, c'mon," he said, "You looked so cute in that frock thingie your Nana made for you our junior year …"

Kim glared at her boyfriend through narrowed eyes. "So not funny."

Ron was now rapidly spending down the store of brownie points he didn't even know he had. His grin then turned into something softer, something appreciative. "You know you did look cute in that dress. Then again, you looked cute in anything back then. Still do."

Kim was about to snap when she noticed the expression on Ron's face. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yep. Didn't matter if I was crushing on you or not, I knew you were beautiful, KP. Always were, always will be," he replied, reaching up to play with her ponytail.

"Even with a scar?" Kim, even though she felt she made the right decision about postponing the treatment, still felt self-conscious. She hated knowing she could be vain about her looks, but there it was.

Ron leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Especially with a scar. Makes you look dangerous," he said. Then after a pause, he added. "And hot!"

Kim rolled her eyes, gave Ron a wry smile, then brought her lips to his and whispered, "I'll show you hot, Captain Romance …"

_TBC …_

* * *

A/N: I am in the final weeks of my master's program, with a thesis and three major papers due by the middle of May. While I plan to keep writing this and other KP fics (the rest of _KP:TNG_ is already outlined, I've got a one shot ready for posting next week and another story in progress), my free time over the next month will be limited. So, though I hope to update _TNG_ in two weeks, it may well be three before you see the next installment. 


	17. Chapter 17

My thanks to calamite, conan98002, Louis Mielke, Matri, whitem, GargoyleSama, MichaelCross, Molloy, Commander Argus, Classic Cowboy, campy, spectre666, daywalkr82, US.Steele, Yuri Sisteble, mattb3671, JPMod, JAM2.0, Ultimate Naco Topping, Visigoth29527, Mattk, AtomicFire, Supreme Admiral of the Web, Uru Baen, suforst, momike, IncrediRaider8, 3VAD127, Ezbok58a, Zaratan, Emerald Dark Knight, grumpirah, Ace Ian Combat, TexasDad, The Halfa Wannabe, TransWarpDrive, and Brother to Vorlons for reviewing and to all of you for reading.

With this chapter, _KP:TNG_ crosses the 100,000 word mark. And to think when I originally conceived this it was going to be a five-chapter, 30,000-word lark. Go figure.

Thanks to campy, as always, for his help. He rocks, he rolls, he is da man.

Write a review, get a response.

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; if you saw it on _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I. 

Thanks to the wonders of holodeck technology, Kim was finding it hard to believe she was actually on a Klingon battle cruiser in orbit about Khitomer and not in a centuries-old hall on _Qo'noS_, complete with hammerbeam ceiling and wall-mounted wrought-iron braziers. She was seated at a long trestle table with Ron to her right. Or, more accurately, she was to Ron's left, for he was the guest of honor. To Ron's right was Gowron, and arrayed along the table to either side were Picard, Nechayev, Fiske, and some Klingon generals. There were two other tables branching off from the head, forming a "U". Seated at those other tables were a mix of male and female Klingon warriors – and Worf and Bonnie.

Kim was proud of Ron. He'd done a great job demonstrating his command of the Sword of Kahless to the assembled Klingons, convincing them of, if not pleasing them with, his _bona fides_ as the Chosen One. Now he was holding his own in conversation, downing his fill of bloodwine and, most impressive to his hosts, scarfing down his gagh.

Kim did her part too, drinking her wine and eating her Klingon fare like the good, culturally sensitive Starfleet officer she was. Kim was not one for alcoholic beverages, but was willing to humor her hosts, especially since Dr. Crusher had given her some medication that was designed to mitigate the drink's effects. Kim had even had one pleasant surprise: she had initially dreaded tasting gagh, but was pleased to discover the Klingon delicacy tasted like hotdogs with marshmallows. She thought the consistency was gorchy, but the flavor was really quite nice.

She smiled at Ron, who was waving his hands, talking animatedly, then surveyed the room, settling her gaze on her onetime classmate and high school nemesis.

Her erstwhile rival had been unable to resist having some fun at Kim's expense when they rendezvoused at the Transporter Room. Klingon garb was so not Kim's style, though she had to admit to being both amused and, well, aroused by Ron's obvious attraction to her in the alien uniform. Then again, she really couldn't quibble, since she'd come to like him, or, to be honest, come to find him oh so hot, in his warrior's clothing. Yet it wasn't Bonnie's barbs that Kim remembered; as Bonnie needled her, almost as if she was doing so to maintain appearances, Kim could not help but notice the junior diplomat's look of concern as she eyed the scar. That she'd engaged Kim and Ron in idle banter before they beamed over was even more disorienting. Now, as if Bonnie had decided her role in life was no longer to vex Kim Possible, but surprise her, the one-time cheerleader was deep in conversation with Worf, and from their body language, Kim suspected they were talking about something other than diplomatic protocols.

Kim wondered how much of Worf and Bonnie's chattiness could be ascribed to the bloodwine. She had been plied with enough of the stuff that it had begun to overwhelm the treatment provided by Dr. Crusher, and was convinced that all of the Starfleet personnel were on their way to becoming thoroughly drunk. Kim suspected the same was true of the Klingons.

She was turning her attention back to her food when she noticed the female warrior standing before her. The woman's hands were on her hips, and she stared at Kim defiantly.

"You!" the Klingon growled.

"Yes?" Kim asked, wondering what was going on.

"You think you are worthy to be the consort of the Chosen One," the Klingon sneered. "Yet you are nothing but a child. The Chosen One needs a woman, one who can make him feel like a man."

"Come again?" Kim asked, hostility and incredulity mixing in her voice.

"You heard me!" the Klingon female snarled. "I believe there is a word for you in your language, but it would apply to one more mature; you are but a … pup."

Kim stared at the woman in disbelief. She knew what she'd just been called, and so didn't like it. Before she could say anything the Klingon female withdrew a blade from her tunic, which surprised Kim since, other than the Sword of Kahless, this was supposed to be a weapons-free event, and stabbed it into the wooden surface of the table.

The hall fell silent.

"I challenge you for the right to be consort!"

"You have so got to be kidding." Kim wasn't sure what she was supposed to say or do, but she'd seen enough of Klingons to know that being cowed was never a good idea.

"I do not speak idly, child. You will fight or you forfeit your right to be the Chosen One's mate."

II.

_Ooo-kay_, Ron thought_. This is definitely awk-weird._

Ron had watched as the drama unfolded before him. He had no interest in seeing a fight unfold.

"Uh, look, I'm flattered and all," he said rubbing the back of his neck, "but …"

"Quiet!" the female Klingon roared.

Ron blinked his eyes in surprise, then looked back and forth between Kim and Gowron. "Either of you want to tell me what is going on?"

Gowron grinned. "Grilka has challenged your female for the right to be your mate —"

"Yeah, I kind of figured that part out, dude. You know, the knife in the table is a dead giveaway."

Gowron laughed. "The Chosen One is also a jester. You are a man of many talents," he said as he slapped Ron on the back. "The Challenge is an ancient rite. By Klingon tradition, you have no say."

"Excuse me?" Kim interjected.

"You heard me, human," Gowron said evenly. "This is now between you and Grilka." The chancellor then stood and announced to the gathering, "The females shall fight!" Then, looking at his Federation guests, he added, "Unless there are … objections."

Much to Ron's surprise, Picard, Nechayev, and Fiske all sat mutely. Kim already guessed that something involving the Prime Directive or her and Ron's status in Klingon politics accounted for the silence.

"Uh, yeah, I think I'm gonna object here," Ron said.

"I told you, you have no say in this matter," Gowron replied.

"Sorry, dude. I want KP," Ron answered defiantly.

"Do you also want an interstellar incident?" the Klingon asked hostilely.

Kim was not keen on fighting a Klingon warrior, especially when she was beginning to feel the effects of the evening's beverages. But she was a Starfleet officer, and couldn't let this situation impair relations between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. Besides, she was confident that, while she'd have to work harder than usual, she could take the woman. She reached out and squeezed her boyfriend's arm. "I can handle this, Ron."

"You sure, Kim?" he asked, worried about her. Even though he knew she could fight with the best of them, that Worf thought her one of the most skilled martial artists in Starfleet, that she was incredibly brave, he was still concerned.

"So sure," she said serenely before turning her gaze to Grilka.

III.

"So, like, what's going on?" Bonnie asked. "I mean, Kim's Starfleet. Shouldn't someone be intervening?"

"It is not that simple," Worf explained. "I believe Gowron is taking advantage of the fact that the moment Kim and Ron came aboard this ship, they set aside their identities as Federation citizens. They are dressed as they are for a reason: the clothing they are wearing is not simply for show; it indicates that they have roles to play in Klingon society."

"Well, that's all well and fine. But this just seems ridiculous. Someone should just beam them back to _Enterprise_."

"That would be a grave insult to the entire Klingon Empire, a breach of diplomatic protocol and, as Gowron has noted, would cause a diplomatic incident. Besides," Worf added, "Kim would lose honor if she fled to avoid the fight. Do you really think her capable of that?"

Bonnie recalled all the crazy things Kim had done during high school, especially her mountain rescue work for the Martian Red Cross. If there was danger, Kim was likely to be there. Bonnie had grudgingly conceded a long time ago that Kim truly wanted to help people, regardless of any personal risk that might entail. Yet she wondered at times if Kim was also addicted to adrenaline rushes. She looked at Worf. "No, I don't think K could run even if she wanted to," she answered. Then sounding peeved, Bonnie crossed her arms and asked. "So, like, why didn't anyone say anything about this before they came over?"

Worf returned her gaze, unable to contain his surprise. "Think. If they had known, do you think Captain Picard would have let them come aboard? I suspect Gowron knew this would happen. He is not only testing Ron, he is testing Kim. And from his position, he cannot lose. Kim will either prove herself worthy of her place in Klingon society – or a Klingon will stand by Ron's side."

Bonnie looked at Worf, then shook her head. _And people say Romulans are sneaky_, she thought.

IV.

Kim rose and confidently walked around the table to face her opponent.

"I will make your defeat swift, pup," the Klingon snapped.

Kim growled. "So not going to happen."

Gowron surveyed the room, then spoke. "The rules of the Challenge are simple. The combatants may use any weapon within this room – and anything may be used as a weapon. The victor will officially be declared Consort to the Chosen One, Mistress of the House of Stoppable, and will enjoy all the rights and honors due to her as his mate under Klingon law and custom."

_This is so the drama. I win and the Klingons think I'm Ron's … wife,_ Kim said to herself. She already knew that she and Ron were in it for the long haul; otherwise things they had already done and shared would not have happened. Yet they had only been officially dating for less than two weeks. Being more or less wed, even if it was under another species' laws, which, in this instance wouldn't have any standing in the Federation of which she was a citizen, was overwhelming. Mitigating these feelings was Kim's sure knowledge that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Ron.

Her reverie was broken by the sound of Ron's voice.

"Uh, Gowron," he asked. "Just in case the admiral doesn't know how this challenge thingie works …"

Nechayev directed an icy glare at Ron while Picard forced himself to keep a straight face.

"… how does KP win?"

Gowron looked at Kim with a feral smile. "She kills Grilka."

"And, uh, what if she doesn't?" he asked, trying not to sound nervous, as he feared he already knew the answer.

"Then she will be killed by Grilka," the Klingon leader said, still looking at Kim, watching for any signs of fear or nervousness, but pleased to see she was now staring back at him, showing only brash confidence. "What say you, human?"

Kim looked at Gowron, then at her opponent, then at Ron, to whom she said something that made sense to nobody else in the room. "Seven Layers of Heaven, please and thank you." Turning back to Grilka, Kim snarled. "Bring it …"

V.

The fog that had shrouded the city had burned off by mid-morning, leaving a truly glorious spring day behind, the kind on which Ron would wander up to Telegraph Hill where he'd go to the top of Coit Tower to enjoy the view or find his way down to China Beach and the outdoor museum where he could imagine he was playing baseball or spend the better part of the day riding up and down California Street on one of the ancient cable cars. Much to Kim's bemusement, he'd fallen in love with San Francisco, so much that he'd pretty much abandoned his beloved VR games so he could spend time exploring the city. When a beautiful day like this fell on a weekend, he'd persuade Kim to join him; if it fell on a weekday, he'd consider skipping classes. But this day, instead of wandering the city, he was doing something different: he was sitting in the middle of the main quad at the Academy, fidgeting.

He was nervous. He wished he knew how Kim was doing on her exam. He knew how anxious she had been, because this was a sitch she couldn't control. Kim Possible was very smart, yet she took nothing for granted when it came to her schoolwork, always applying herself, so she could be sure she'd do well on her exams. But this test was unlike any other she'd ever taken. She wasn't taking a test on Federation History or Quantum Mechanics or Principles of Warp Field Engineering.

Instead, she was taking a very different kind of test, one that didn't test knowledge so much as her fitness for command.

The _Kobayashi Maru_.

The exam had remained unchanged over the decades, save a shift in the scenario from the Klingon Neutral Zone to the one with the Romulans. The test was legendary, the ultimate unwinnable sitch. Where it had once been reserved for those on the command track, now every cadet at the Academy faced it. And none had ever prevailed, other than one James T. Kirk.

And he had to take the test three times before he bested the program.

And that was only after he had cheated by reprogramming the simulation.

The Academy took measures to ensure that could never happen again.

"Okay, so everybody fails, KP, what's the big deal?" he'd asked the day Kim learned she'd been assigned a test date and explained to him what was so special about this particular exam. "Just do your best. Minimize the damage."

She fumed. "No, Ron. I am not going to fail and just call that my best. I'm going to beat this thing. Check my motto: I can do anything."

Ron decided it would be prudent not to point out that Kim's personal motto was a bit, well, big-heady, though he would be the first to agree that Kim could do almost anything.

Ron saw very little of Kim over the following weeks. Every spare moment she had she spent cramming for the test, studying decades worth of students' exam results, reading everything written about the _Kobi_. She was obsessed with finding a way to beat the _Kobayashi Maru_.

Kim called Ron the night before the exam and apologized for being so wrapped up in her test preparations. They agreed that they'd meet the next day after her exam debriefing and do something fun.

Ron now found himself looking at his chrono, rather than the beautifully landscaped quadrangle or the attractive female cadets walking by. He knew Kim should be appearing very soon. He looked up and saw a familiar auburn-haired young woman emerge from a classroom building. As she walked briskly in his direction, he stood and headed to meet her. He could soon see that she was not happy.

"KP … ? " he began to ask hesitantly.

"All dead!" she snapped. "I avoided a war with the Romulans, and didn't lose my ship, but everyone on the _Kobi_ was killed. Because of me!"

"Maybe a little Ronshine will help …" he said, hoping to help her calm down.

"Drop it, Ron. I don't want any Ronshine now, okay?" she snapped. "I'd just as soon take a rain check on this afternoon."

It was clear to Ron that Kim wasn't asking, but was telling. Before he could say anything she was stalking away from him.

Ron stood there, slack-jawed. Kim never treated him this way. He felt like he'd just been kicked in the gut.

"She just take the _Kobayashi Maru_?"

"Uh, yeah," Ron answered as he turned to see an old man by his side.

"Don't take it personally. They're all told how they can't pass, that it's a test of character, to see how they deal under pressure. But every one of them wants to be the first one to beat the _Kobi_, to do what even Kirk couldn't do, and become an instant Starfleet legend. They invest so much of themselves in preparing, then they take the test and they start kicking themselves," he said with a shake of his head. "You her boyfriend?"

"Me? Nah," Ron answered. "Though I am her best friend."

"Best friend? I thought only eight year olds had 'best friends.'"

"Hey don't knock it, dude. Kim and I have been best buds since we were four. In it together, through thick and thin," Ron said proudly. "Or at least I thought …" he added as his shoulders sagged. While he was sad that Kim had just brushed him off, what really bothered him was that there was a part of her life to which he seemed to be totally and wholly irrelevant: Starfleet. And, unfortunately, this was now the central part of her life. He began to see the future, and he didn't like it.

The old man could see the pain in Ron's eyes.

"The thing they never tell these kids is that the hardest part of the test is how you handle yourself afterwards. Be there for her. Good captains – and hurting friends – need someone they can lean on, even if they don't realize it."

That made Ron feel better. Kim usually was the last one to recognize that she needed support. _Starfleet'll be a pressure cooker, she'll really need me then_, he thought.

"Thanks. By the way, are you some sort of therapist or counselor?"

"Nope. Just the gardener," Boothby said before wandering off.

A few hours later, Ron quietly set a box down in front of Kim's door, pressed the chime, and ran. When she opened the door she looked around and saw nobody, but found the package and a note.

_I know you don't want any Ronshine, but I thought you might like some Seven Layers of Heaven. Remember, I've got your back, even when things look hopeless. Your best bud, Ron_

Kim took the note and the cake into her room. She'd been seething all afternoon, wracking her brain, analyzing her every action, trying to figure out how to beat the _Kobi _simulation. _I blow off Ron and he goes and bakes me a cake_, she thought. _There's a lesson in here somewhere_.

She looked at her monitor, then at the chocolate surprise. She rummaged through her desk drawer and found a fork and knife and cut herself some cake.

"Mmmm. This is spankin'," she said aloud as she ate some more of the homemade dessert.

She pressed the call button on her monitor.

"Yo, KP!"

"Ron Stoppable, have I told you how amazing you are?"

"I am what I is!" he said proudly. "You like the cake?"

"Let's just say that Seven Layers of Heaven beats _Kobayashi Maru_ every time. Maybe if I fed some of this to the test administrator, he'd give me some cheat codes."

"Hey, I like that, KP. Change the rules. Good approach."

Kim chuckled. "Sorry I was such the jerk earlier."

"Don't worry. I know it was a big deal."

"Yeah, but it's not as big a deal as a best friend who's got my back. If I've got crewmates like you when I'm in space, I really will be able to do anything."

"And if you don't?"

"Then I'll call you. Give the Romulans a dose of Ronshine."

"See? I knew you were smart."

Kim smiled warmly at her lifelong friend. "So, I hear there's a new restaurant in Sausalito —"

"Ooo ooo! You mean the Tex-Mex Vulcan Fusion place?"

Kim laughed as Ron's face lit up. She was going to miss his enthusiasm when she graduated and was deployed.

"That's the one. You up for a ferry ride? It should be a nice night to be out on the water."

"I'm all about ferry rides with my best friend!"

VI.

_Kim knows what she's up against. She's keeping her cool. And now I need to figure out a way to help_, Ron told himself. Kim had learned some important lessons from the _Kobayashi Maru_ simulation, lessons she'd shared with Ron. Keep things in perspective. Rely on your crew and friends in an emergency. Don't hope for the impossible – but try to pull off the improbable. And if you can find a way to rewrite the rules, do it. He didn't know how he was going to help, but he'd find a way; that she'd essentially asked him to do that spoke volumes to him about how much she trusted him. He was not going to let her down.

VII.

Shego observed that the people were polite, the crowds on the streets orderly, and the vehicles floated by at safe speeds. _This has got to be the most incredibly boring capital in the galaxy_, Shego thought. _At least the red sky is kind of funky. And the buildings are interesting_. The disguised glamorous henchwoman thought the intricate, interesting, even wild architecture spoke volumes about the Vulcans and their repressed emotions.

The two criminals and two synthodrones were moving freely about the Vulcan capital, heading towards the headquarters of the Vulcan Science Academy. Shego was relieved that Lore was capable of keeping a straight face. She recalled how excited he was when he saw just how good the morphing abilities of Drakken's simulacra were. He'd been like a Ferengi in an unsecured bank vault, unable to stop grinning.

The synthodrones now looked like garden-variety Vulcans. That would change once they gained access to the facility. Lore had planned things out carefully and was hoping to not only create tension between Earth and Vulcan, but spark an interstellar crisis between Vulcan and Romulus.

VIII.

_Riker hates me._

That was the only explanation that Tom could think of.

_And it's Kim's fault. Riker hates me because of Kim. She's the only reason I'm here._

The trip to Drakken's World had been uneventful. No Breen. No Ferengi. No Nausicaans. Tom felt like a glorified taxi driver.

Will Du had lost no time in asserting his authority over the mission. Though just a lieutenant like Tom, Will made it clear that he also held a remit from Galactic Justice, was on excellent terms with Admiral Nechayev and other Starfleet worthies, and had significant direct experience in criminal investigations. He also made it clear that he sought no input from Tom, that he expected Tom to follow his orders, and that Tom would do best keeping quiet and flying the shuttle.

Less than two weeks earlier, Tom had been flying high. He had the galaxy at his fingertips, Kim was his girlfriend, Riker even listened to the occasional suggestion. Now he was on the outs. All because of Kim and her freak friend – he still refused to think of Ron as Kim's new boyfriend.

It was unfair. Kim and Stoppable were now mixed up in high drama with the leader of the Klingon Empire while he was chauffeuring some GJ private eye to search for clues in an investigation that was taken away from none other than Kim.

That's what really amazed him. Kim was the golden child right now. Yet because of her impetuosity, not only had Tom's career been thrown off track, but that loser Stoppable was disfigured, and the investigation was so messed up that Galactic Justice had to be called in.

_She couldn't even do that right_, he fulminated, unwilling to recognize the politics that had been involved in that decision. _Kim couldn't just do the right thing and listen to me. Instead she had to go all "I can do anything" and mess things up on this case. She should be flying this thing right now, not me. Hmpph. She's probably partying with that loser and the Klingons …_

IX.

"Let the contest begin!" Gowron roared.

The two women stood facing each other at the end of the Feasting Hall. They began to circle each other warily, each looking for an opening.

Grilka bared her teeth and struck first.

Kick. Spin. Kick. Punch. Punch, all in rapid succession.

Each move sent Kim further into retreat.

"You dress like a Klingon warrior, but you fight like a Ferengi," Grilka sneered as she maneuvered Kim back towards a corner.

"I hope your fighting skills aren't as weak as your banter," Kim riposted. Seeing that there was now ample space on all sides of Grilka to maneuver, Kim did a backflip, then surprised the Klingon as she launched herself into a double handspring. Kim landed behind her opponent, pivoted on her right foot and drove her boot into the Klingon's side. Kim didn't like fighting dirty, but as far as she was concerned she – and Ron – had been ambushed by this challenge.

Grilka staggered and Kim followed up with a Kirk-style club blow to the back of the warrior's neck, driving her to her knees. Kim then kicked out again. But this time she was the one who was surprised.

Grilka, on her knees, reached up and grabbed Kim's outstretched leg. Kim landed on her back with a painful thud.

The Klingon rose, turned, then delivered a swift kick to Kim's side, causing Kim to clutch herself in pain. She was surprised when Grilka didn't follow up her assault with another blow.

But Kim's surprise didn't last long. As she got to her feet, she noticed the Klingon standing before the dais.

And in Grilka's hand was the knife she had earlier embedded in the table's surface.

X.

"Well, this has been depressingly easy," Lore quipped as they made their way down a corridor of the Vulcan Science Academy.

"Don't knock easy, sport. Easy's good," Shego replied.

"And I thought you had more spirit, Shego," he said mockingly.

"Hey, I've got plenty of spirit, Tin Man. But I've also got some brains. We didn't come here for a rumble; we came for the PDVI."

"And we'll get it, Shego. But you have to admit, it would have been fun to have to work for it."

Shego just stared at her partner. She actually enjoyed a good challenge. They kept her on her toes. But she also didn't feel a need to actively seek out pointless trouble. That was a whole other matter. Lore, on the other hand, seemed like a moth attracted to candlelight. She still thought his Romulan plan was whack. Unfortunately, he was wedded to it and he insisted on its implementation. She fervently hoped his subterfuge did indeed provide a distraction that would hasten their escape, rather than a complication that would facilitate their apprehension.

"Okay, Stan and Ollie," Lore said. "Morph for Papa!"

The android watched with glee as the two synthodrones changed form. Ridges emerged on their brows; their skin took on a slightly ruddier color. And their non-descript Vulcan workwear changed into Romulan Tal Shiar uniforms.

Shego reached into her satchel and distributed four Romulan disruptors. She hoped that Lore wouldn't be trigger-happy. Then she withdrew a device that she overlaid on the biometric scanner. She pressed a sequence of keys and grinned as the red light on the device changed to green. It was with great satisfaction and anticipation that she and Lore watched the non-descript door open.

They quietly made their way down the corridor. If the schematics Shego had secured from Big Daddy Brotherson were correct, the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer would be behind the third door on the left.

XI.

Kim quickly scanned the room. The most attractive weapon option was the braziers; unfortunately, they were firmly attached to the wall. As Grilka charged her, Kim dropped to the floor and rolled. She cursed the Klingon who designed the Feasting Hall. Everybody was sitting on long benches. A chair would have been most useful.

Grilka lunged and Kim once again evaded her. She dropped into a defensive crouch and awaited the Klingon's next attack. When it came, Kim's hand shot out and grabbed her opponent's wrist. She was trying to shake the weapon loose, when Grilka's other hand lashed out and caught her beneath the jaw, staggering her. Kim was unprepared as the Klingon slashed at her torso.

XII.

"So," Tom finally said, unable to abide the silence any longer, "is this one of those 'I'll have to kill you if I tell you' deals, or can you say how you got this lead?"

Will looked at Tom, musing that it would be very helpful if Section 31 did have such a security designation for information – though only if it were available for use by top agents like himself, of course. He wondered how much he should tell his companion about Ed Lipsky.

Lipsky's unorthodox attitude towards his Starfleet duties had only been discovered by accident. But once the discovery had been made, it didn't take long for Starfleet Security to become very concerned, which quickly led to the involvement of Section 31. Lipsky had put himself in a position to compromise every single one of Starfleet's computer systems. That, in turn, had led to the unannounced visit to Lipsky's quarters by two Section 31 operatives, Lt. Commander Smith and Lt. Commander Smith.

At first, Lipsky had refused to say anything without the assistance of a lawyer, and even then he'd been reticent; he had no desire to be on the receiving end of Shego's "green magic." But his attitude began to change when his interrogators let on that one of the benefits of the Federation's friendly relations with the Klingon Empire was the ability to render prisoners to Rura Penthe.

Everybody in the Alpha Quadrant knew that in its centuries-long history, only Jonathan Archer, James T. Kirk and Leonard McCoy had escaped from Rura Penthe. Ed did not fool himself into thinking that, were he to be sent to the prison world, he would be adding his name to that very short list.

He told his interrogators what they wanted to know.

And then they sent him to Rura Penthe anyway.

Will considered the matter a bit more. He knew that having regular Starfleet officers in one's debt was useful to Section 31 operatives.

On the other hand, Carter struck him as being an annoying prat, and playing him could be fun. _Besides_, Will thought, _I can always begin to reel him in later_.

Looking at the pilot with a straight face, Will simply said, "I would have to kill you."

XIII.

"There are three guys in there," Shego hissed as she looked up from her stolen Starfleet tricorder

"Excellent," Lore replied; his plans for creating problems between the Vulcans and the Romulans required some on-site assistance. "Stan, Ollie, you ready?" he asked.

The two syntho-Romulans nodded.

"Then it's show time!" Lore announced, nodding to Shego.

She withdrew the security override device she had used earlier. Once again, she was able to open the door without difficulty.

Three surprised Vulcans looked up to see two Romulans pointing disruptors at them. Before they had a chance to react, they had all crumpled to the ground. Shego, still outside, entered some more commands into her device, cutting all power in the room.

"Okay, Golden Boy. Go to it. I'll keep an eye open out here."

Much to her surprise, Lore leaned in for a kiss.

"C'mon. One for luck," he said.

"You are incorrigible," she snapped.

"Yes, but that's why you like me," he replied with a carefree grin.

Shego shook her head, smiled, then gave Lore his encouragement.

He walked into the pitch-black room. Fortunately for the android, Doctor Soong had given Lore optical hardware that allowed him to see under almost any imaginable condition.

He made his way to a panel, then turned to Stan and took the synthodrone's disruptor. He fired at the wall; a drawer slid out, revealing the second half of the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer.

"Come to Daddy," Lore said as he reached into the bay.

The moment his hand touched the device an alarm went off and dull red lights came on.

"How?" he asked, stunned, looking around in disbelief.

"C'mon, Android. Time to go! Now!" Shego barked as the door at the end of the corridor slid open and security personnel began to pour through.

She fired a couple of shots from her weapon as she ducked into the room.

The guards entered the lab just in time to see four figures dematerialize.

XIV.

Kim's eyes opened wide as the knife sliced through her tunic and across her midriff. Kim cursed herself for having indulged her hosts. The bloodwine had definitely slowed her reflexes. She looked to her right and grabbed a plate of food, which she hurled at Grilka, who ducked before lunging towards Kim again.

Kim was now facing Ron. He could now see the crimson line across her torso.

He didn't care about interstellar incidents. He wasn't going to watch Kim get killed by some nut-job Klingon who thought he'd then be her husband.

_Rewrite the rules, Rondo. This is between them. But you and KP are a team. You are her weapon … but she'll kill you if you jump into the fight … so how else can I even things up? She needs a knife. But I don't have one._ Then Ron smiled. _But I do have a magic sword!_

He closed his eyes and concentrated; the bat'leth began to levitate.

Kim was desperately trying to fend off Grilka when she saw the Sword of Kahless rise behind Ron. Her eyes opened wide as it flew towards her; she stretched out a hand and grabbed the incoming weapon and thought, _You rock, Ron!_ Then she smirked at Grilka.

"What is the meaning of this?" Gowron demanded.

"Don't know what you're talking about, dude," Ron said innocently.

"You have interfered!"

"Hey, maybe KP's got the mad fu skills, too!" Ron said. "Besides, we're a team. That makes me one of her weapons."

Gowron glowered at Ron.

"You are treacherous, human."

"I try," he said smugly.

Kim meanwhile smirked at Grilka. "Still feeling tough with that knife?"

"At least I have my honor," the Klingon said as she and Kim circled one another.

"Oh really? Where's the honor in coming prepared to issue a challenge that the other party has never heard of?"

"It is not my fault you did not know of the challenge."

"Hiding behind the fine print? So Ferengi," Kim said breezily as she flipped the blade and brought the blade down on Grilka's wrist, knocking the knife loose.

The Klingon looked at her weapon, then at Kim. She dove for the knife, grabbed it, rolled and was about to spring to her feet when she found the sharp edge of the bat'leth blade inches from her face.

"Make one more move and you're dead."

Grilka looked at Kim. She was surprised by the feral look on the Starfleet officer's face.

"He's mine," Kim said. "Got it?"

The Klingon stared impassively at Kim.

"You're mine, too. I own your life. Now get up!" she said harshly.

"No. If you wish to be the Consort, you must kill me."

"What part of 'I'm already the Consort' don't you understand?" Kim growled. "I don't need to kill you for that. I've already got Ron's love, which is something you could never have."

"You dishonor me with your taunts, human. Kill me."

"No," Kim said, breathing heavily. "I won't do it," she said, as if speaking to a third person.

"Kill me," Grilka demanded.

"No!" Kim hissed. "The Empire needs its warriors. It needs you."

Kim then threw the Sword of Kahless aside and dropped to her knees, her skin pale, her face drenched in sweat. Grilka, confused, looked at her, then at the knife. She knew then that she could strike at the human with impunity. But the Starfleet officer was right. She would never be able to win the Chosen One's heart. In fact, he would probably kill her in her sleep for ending the life of his chosen mate. And the human had shown herself to be a warrior, worthy of her place. With a twinge of jealousy, but also a measure of closure, she watched as Ron jogged around the table and knelt by Kim's side, confirming what she had just been told: Kim truly was the Consort.

Ron wrapped an arm around her, "You okay, KP?" He knew it was an inane question, but he couldn't help but ask.

"Been better," she confessed with a weak smile. "Too much blood wine and gagh."

"How about I get you back to Doctor Crusher, then maybe give you some Seven Layers of Heaven?"

"I'd like that, please and thank you," Kim answered as she rested her head on Ron's shoulder.

XV.

"The security here is surprisingly lax."

"Maybe it's a trap?"

"Obviously, that's a possibility we must consider. Remain alert."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Duh," he muttered.

"I'm sorry?" Will asked as he looked at Tom the way a teacher would a misbehaving student.

"Nothing," Tom groused.

"Mr. Carter, let me be frank," Will said. "I am aware that you think you are above this assignment. Is this attitude common to all officers on _Enterprise_? Ensign Possible seethed when I was brought onto the case, not willing to admit that someone else might be better able to do something. You seem unwilling to set aside your ego for the good of the mission."

Tom looked at Will through narrowed eyes. "Don't go confusing me with Kim," he snapped. "She's reckless and undisciplined and doesn't know what's good for her and can't recognize when someone else might be better suited for a mission. I can. I know you're a security guy. I just don't like being talked to in a patronizing fashion."

"I did not realize I was being patronizing," Will replied innocently. He knew he spoke with confidence – with good reason, of course – but he always thought he was unfailingly polite and professional. "I am sorry if I've caused any offense."

Tom looked at Will, then gave him a charming grin. Du might be a jerk, he thought, but maybe he could be a useful one. At this point, any ally might be helpful. Maybe if he did well on this mission, Du would speak to Nechayev about a transfer. A new post might be what Tom needed. "Don't worry, Will. Now, what do we do next?"

XVI.

As Kim sat on the biobed, Ron held her hand. Dr. Crusher ran a medical device across Kim's midriff, healing the light flesh wound.

"Well, Ensign, that's about it. Stay away from bloodwine and you should be ready for duty tomorrow morning, though if you like I can check you in now and we can begin the dermoregeneration process on your face and torso." Kim now had a light scar across her middle to match the one on her cheek.

"I'd prefer to wait if that's okay, Doctor," Kim replied. "The Orionisi are coming and I so don't want to miss that …"

Beverly smiled, impressed and slightly amused by Kim's desire to be in the thick of the action.

"Okay, that can wait. However, I think you'd do well to sleep in. I'll tell Captain Picard that you'll be at your post at 1200 hours."

Kim didn't bother protesting; she knew that the doctor, having yielded on the first point, wouldn't be swayed. Besides, Kim was exhausted. "Thanks, Doctor," she said as she hopped off the bed.

Kim and Ron walked back to her quarters so she could change. She was beginning to think that maybe it really was time to just move in with Ron. _Why not?_ she mused. _As far as the Klingons are concerned, we're all but married._ She retrieved some things so she'd be ready for the next day, then took off the damaged Klingon uniform.

Kim was down to her decidedly unexciting Starfleet issue undergarments when she saw Ron's reflection in her mirror. She smiled as she noticed he was staring at her in frank admiration. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I know what you're thinking, Ron."

"Oh?" he asked impishly.

"Mmm hmm. You're thinking, 'maybe she'll say she wants some Ron instead of some Seven Layers of Heaven' …"

"Weeeelll …" he said sheepishly.

"I do love my Ron," she purred. "But I also love my Seven Layers of Heaven." She brought her lips to his. "Maybe I'll just have to have my cake and eat it, too …"

XVII.

"What?" Worf asked sharply.

"Nothing," Bonnie replied. "Well, so okay, something."

"Yes?"

"You're kind of cute."

"Cute?" the Klingon asked, incredulous. He had never been called 'cute' before.

Bonnie flashed him a sly grin. "Okay, not so much cute as hunky …"

Hunky. That sounded better to Worf.

"… can I buy you a drink in Ten Forward?" she asked seductively.

Worf looked at Bonnie carefully. She was confident and sharp-tongued. She held her wine reasonably well. He had learned of her relationship to Kim and Ron over dinner and while disappointed they were not friends, was satisfied that they were no longer rivals. She had spirit. She might be a schemer – he sensed that about her – but with some cultivation, she might also develop a true sense of honor – he had seen how tweaked she was by the way the Challenge was announced. And she was very attractive, with a true woman's figure. He made a decision.

"Yes, that would be agreeable."

XVIII.

"Ron?"

"Mmm, yeah, KP," he murmured. He and Kim were curled up in the bed, an arm wrapped around her from behind. He found her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I have to ask you something …"

The gnawing feeling she'd had ever since they left the Klingon battle cruiser refused to go away, and in the still of the night it demanded her attention, as much as she wanted to ignore it. What she thought might have been the alcohol or adrenaline seemed to be something else, something darker and more menacing.

Ron began to wake up. There was something about the tone of Kim's voice that worried him.

"Sure, KP." Kim rolled over to face Ron. He was shocked by the look of fear in her eyes. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"When you've held the Sword, have you felt anything?"

"Yeah, I have. It's like, well, I don't know what it's like, to be honest. Not so much tingly, but, well, weird – but in a good way."

"Have you wanted to hurt anyone?"

"No. Well yes, but that wasn't because of the Sword. I mean, obviously I wanted to kill those things that were attacking us, and I was not happy with the Klingons."

"Ron," Kim said in a small voice, "I wanted to kill her."

"Huh?"

"After I knocked Grilka down, I wanted to kill her. I was furious, enraged, and I wanted to … well, I wanted to cut her head off."

Kim wanting to kill someone in cold blood was sick and wrong. Ron thought about that for a moment. "But you didn't."

"No. I fought the urge," she said, shuddering as she recalled the fight.

"You still want to kill her?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. Any desire to do that went away after I threw away the Sword. I'd say it was the bat'leth, Ron, but I didn't feel that way when I used it in the fight against Shego."

"Hmm. Maybe that's because it didn't know me yet. I'd felt a nice little feeling, kind of like diluted Atomic Spark Rocks, when I bought it, but it wasn't until we were on the moon that I learned I could make it sit up and do tricks and stuff. And even then …"

"So, now that it knows it belongs to you, it doesn't want anyone else using it …"

"Guess so. Though I'll have to have a little talk with it. My bat'leth's your bat'leth and all that."

"You goof," Kim said with a smile as she mussed up his hair. "You know, Ron," she said a bit more seriously, "we should tell the captain about this."

Ron nodded. "You're right. In the wrong hands, the Sword could be really dangerous." For reasons he couldn't explain, he had visions of Ambassador Fiske running amok with the bat'leth.

They lay together in silence, looking into one another's eyes, until fitful sleep overcame them.

XIX.

_Vulcan authorities have already summoned the Romulan ambassador to demand an explanation regarding the involvement of two Tal Shiar operatives in a break-in at the Vulcan Science Academy._

"Oh, this is just too rich!" Lore enthused as he watched the broadcast on the newsnet. "They fell for it hook, line, and sinker!" He knew it didn't hurt that they'd alerted the news media to the break-in before they broke orbit. The moment the Vulcan government learned of the story, they began demanding answers. The holotapes at the lab clearly showed two Romulans along with two Vulcans. "I can't wait until the folks on Earth learn what was stolen. Then this will really get fun."

Shego just shook her head in disbelief. If Drakken had been running this operation, something would have gone wrong by now. But Lore actually seemed to be able to pull off a complicated plot. What that actually was, however, eluded her. And that made her nervous.

XX.

Drakken looked up at the security monitor and saw the two figures making their way along the base of the escarpment. He was glad he had listened to Shego and installed the camera at the remote location.

He turned to his red-suited synthodrones. "We seem to have some guests! Why don't you show them in?" he suggested.

XXI.

Will and Tom regained consciousness at the same time. The two Starfleet officers were surprised to find themselves shackled to the wall of what was clearly a lair.

Will looked around casually as if he'd been in this predicament before. Tom wasn't as sanguine. He'd always had visions of being a hero, of distinguishing himself by his bravery, but those dreams always involved him sitting in a captain's chair, commanding a ship in battle. He'd never imagined himself being captured.

"It would appear that you were right," Will said phlegmatically. "It was a trap."

"I think I could have done with being wrong this time," Tom joked weakly. "So, what do we do now?"

"We escape."

"But why would you want to do that?" a third voice asked. "You just arrived."

Tom and Will watched as a blue-skinned man emerged from the shadows.

"Drew Lipsky!" Will said.

"I prefer Doctor Drakken," the man said, an edge to his voice.

"Drew Theodore P. Lipsky," Will replied authoritatively, "you are under arrest, per the —"

"You don't seem to understand the captor-captee relationship, do you?" Drakken observed.

"I think you mean the captor-captured –" Tom noted.

"Nnnggg! Whatever!" Drakken snapped. "Now tell me, who are you? Who sent you?"

Will and Tom responded by giving Drakken their names, ranks, and serial numbers, and nothing more.

"So that's it?" Drakken said petulantly. "That's all you're going to tell me?"

"That is correct," Will said. "And since we are Starfleet officers, we are trained in multiple techniques to resist the forcible extraction of information."

"Oh really?" Drakken said with a sudden confidence the two men found disturbing. "You Starfleet types think you're all that, but you're not. Have either of you ever heard of Ceti Alpha V?"

"Yes," Will said, betraying anxiety for the first time since Tom had met him. Tom wished he'd paid more attention in Interstellar Geography.

"As you know, it has only one indigenous life form," Drakken said as he withdrew a small jar from his pocket. "Very lonely really. No chance to make friends. I know they'd like to get know both of you better …"

Will's eyes opened wide as Drakken approached him with two small, blue creatures. They had armored backs and sharp mandibles. Will had heard about what these things were capable of doing to humans. The late Admiral Chekhov, writing in his memoirs about his encounter with Khan Noonien Singh, had said that having one of the parasites invade his brain was the single worst experience of his life. It was excruciatingly painful and, even more disturbingly, it had resulted in his loss of free will, allowing Khan to make him do his bidding.

Beads of sweat began to form on Will's forehead as Drakken lifted one of the creatures from the container with tweezers and placed it on his shoulder.

The GJ operative shuddered as he felt the thing climb his neck towards the back of his ear. Then, the parasite began to pierce his skin. The pain began and Will let out a blood-curdling scream.

Tom had never been so terrified in his life. He could feel the blood drain from his face when Drakken turned to him.

"I-I'll tell you anything you want to know," Tom pleaded, his shame outweighed by his fear.

His heart sank as Drakken, holding another of the creatures, smiled at him with malice and said, "Oh, I'm sure you will …"

_TBC …_

**

* * *

A/N:** Three weeks to finish up all of my assignments so I can actually receive my master's means little time for writing in the days ahead. I've got some short stories and one-shots that I'm planning to post over the next few Fridays. _KP:TNG_ chapters are longer and more complex than the other things I post and thus take much more time to write. So, please bear with me: Kim, Ron and the _Enterprise_ gang will return in late May.


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks to campy, conan98002, whitem, spectre666, calamite, Louis Mielke, MichaelCross, AtomicFire, JPMod, Yankee Bard, CajunBear73, daywalkr82, RealityBreakGirl, teddybear-514, Zaratan, Ultimate Naco Topping, happyendingsmaybe, Matri, TexasDad, Taechunsa, suforst, 3VAD127, Commander Argus, Emerald Dark Knight, Molloy, Nikoagonistes, Yuri Sisteble, Supreme Admiral of the Web, Ezbok58a, kemiztri, Skyagent, Visigoth29527, US.Steele, momike, mattb3671, Ace Ian Combat, and Brother to Vorlons for their reviews. Thanks to everyone for reading!

Thanks, as always, to campy for his beta and proofreading work.

This week's story recommendation: _Freckles_ by Molloy. It's badical. Trust me. Read it. You'll be glad you did.

If you saw it on _KP_, Disney owns it.

* * *

I.

Steve Barkin shook his head as he thought how strange life could be. If anyone had told him five years earlier that this was where he would be, he would have thought him insane – and sent him to detention, just to be safe.

Detention. He wished he still had that tool at his disposal. Not anymore. It had been half a decade since he'd been a teacher. If only he hadn't gone to that town meeting. If only the Senator hadn't proven to be such a weasel and crook. If only, if only …

But he had gone to the meeting. And he'd spoken up, giving vent to his righteous fury. Barkin was above all a patriot. He loved the Federation and he loved Mars. He'd attended the Academy and been posted to an elite unit after graduation. He served for more than four years, reaching the rank of lieutenant, receiving numerous commendations, and learning how to cook in the field.

Then he was sent on that mission to Hai I'lai IV and his Starfleet career was over. Something about sustained exposure to warp fields and the parasite in his blood stream that he picked up on the God-forsaken planet being a bad combination. He hated those parasites. They were sneaky little things that wouldn't come out and fight like real men.

After leaving Starfleet, still wanting to make a difference, to contribute to society, Steve Barkin became a teacher. He enjoyed molding young minds. To this day, he took pride in the knowledge that he had helped the greatest slacker in the history of New Middleton maintain his grades at a decent enough level that he could enroll in a culinary institute and begin his journey towards becoming a galaxy-class chef. He wondered how Stoppable was doing. Then his thoughts turned to Possible. He was pleased when she was accepted into the Academy. He always wished those two had gotten together. Something told him they'd make a great couple, outward appearances notwithstanding. He wondered what they were up to. He shook off thoughts of teen romance, acknowledging that he had other, far more pressing things to worry about.

And the only reason these worries were his was because of that accursed town meeting. His angry, gruff, yet honest and heartfelt words dominated the session. People took notice, and the newsnets replayed the image of Joe Citizen Giving Voice to the Disappointment of the People over and over and over again. When the Senator resigned his seat in disgrace, the major political factions could do no better than offer as nominees for the special election the same old faces, professionals who merely mouthed platitudes about the need for change. In response to that development, some business people and civic leaders started a Steve Barkin for Senate movement, which caught on like wildfire. Though stunned, he could not ignore the bugle call of duty and allowed himself to be drafted into the race. Five weeks later, Steve Barkin, New Middleton High School Vice Principal and Starfleet vet, was a member of the Martian Senate.

Then, just a year ago, the incumbent President of the Federation decided that she needed a new running mate, preferably one known for probity and straight talking (the Andorian was not quite known for either) and Barkin once again found himself in the spotlight. He had no – absolutely no – interest in the job. Vice Presidents usually did nothing other than attend funerals, a problem for Barkin since his condition would require him to travel in stasis if he wasn't to be felled by his parasites' problems with warp fields. That seemed like a lot of inconvenience for a job that had once been described by an old Earth politician as being worth no more than a bucket of warm spit. But once again, Steve Barkin responded to a groundswell of grassroots support and reluctantly answered the call of duty.

He'd gone to sleep the previous night Vice President. Then, at approximately 2:39 am Universal Mean Time on Earth, everything changed.

He heard the knock on his door. Barkin was old school and hated door chimes – they sounded girly.

"Come," he said gruffly, as he turned on his bedside lamp.

An officer wearing a Starfleet captain's uniform entered the bedroom.

"Sir, the President is dead."

"Sweet mother of pearl!" Barkin exclaimed, now fully awake. "How?"

"Freak transporter accident."

"I see …" Steve Barkin said as it dawned on him that he was now the President of the Federation, leader of nearly half a trillion sentient beings.

That news had been delivered less than three hours ago.

Now he sat at the ornate desk in the presidential office, Paris still swathed in darkness, reviewing the intelligence dossier that had just been brought to him. He muttered a string of ancient Earth imprecations as he reread the padd, appreciating how Harry Truman felt when he learned about the A-bomb shortly after he'd been told of Franklin Roosevelt's death.

President Steve Barkin had just learned that the Romulans now appeared to be in possession of the most dangerous weapon in human history: the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer. And he knew that detention wasn't going to solve this problem.

II.

They'd been talking for hours, much to Bonnie's amazement. When she'd propositioned Worf in the turbolift, she'd had visions of them having a quick drink before they moved on to more interesting things that would leave the Klingon glistening. But they never made it past Ten Forward. Instead, they were still seated at a corner table, enjoying the view of the streaking stars and the solitude.

Bonnie had to admit she felt very comfortable around Worf. She didn't know if it was all the alcohol she'd had over the course of the evening or the fact that she felt able to talk with him about anything. She found herself intrigued by the Klingon, who was unlike any man she'd met before. He was seemingly simple, a man who saw the world in stark terms of good and bad, right and wrong, black and white, yet one who was remarkably complex, someone who had seen more than his share of life and difficulties. Like her, Worf was someone who presented to the world a gruff, tough image that concealed insecurities, doubts, resentments, and frustrations. He was someone with whom she felt she could be honest.

"Worf, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he replied.

"Who do you think is more attractive? Me or Kim?"

"That is a fruitless question."

"You didn't answer my question. You must think it's Kim."

"I did not say that. I simply think it is pointless to pursue this topic of conversation. If you do not like her, why do you worry about her so much? I was surprised by how frequently she has come up in our conversations this evening."

Bonnie sighed. "I don't know. I actually haven't thought much of her lately. But all of a sudden, she's back in my life and, once again, she's just Miss I Can Do Anything. And it's not like I haven't done well for myself recently. I am a diplomatic aide to an admiral, after all. But then K finds a way to become ADC to Captain Picard when anybody else would have been busted out of the service. It's just like it's always been. I work hard to get things, she has them fall into her lap, even when they shouldn't." A bit distracted, she began twirling a stray lock of hair. "Growing up she seemed to have everything I wanted. A great home and loving family – my mother was annoying, my father preoccupied, and my sisters were, no are, so evil. She's always had a best friend who stuck by her, even when she ignored him …"

Worf looked surprised, given the intimacy he had seen between Kim and Ron.

"… Oh yes," Bonnie said, seeing Worf's expression. "Ensign Miss Perfect had a very pronounced weakness for hotties. A cute guy came along and she'd be speechless – and Ron would be hanging out alone at Bueno Nacho. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying she used him or anything; I just don't think she realized what she had. They'd been friends for so long they could do stuff like that to each other. Ron had his moments, too. But that's what I envied. A friendship that durable. And now they're doing it like rabbits …"

Worf arched an eyebrow. He did not like rabbits. They made him uncomfortable.

"… Kim got to be cheer squad captain, even though I was every bit as good as her." Bonnie paused and looked at Worf for a long moment. "You know, I'm listening to myself and I'm thinking, Rockwaller, you really are a moron. I'm 22 and I'm still comparing myself to a high school classmate. I am such a loser!"

Worf sat quietly and watched Bonnie stare out the window into space, obviously lost in her thoughts. "You."

Bonnie, startled, turned back to look at the Klingon. "Excuse me?"

"You are more desirable than Ensign Possible."

"You mean that?"

"Yes. You will not repeat this to her. Kim Possible is my friend. She is an outstanding officer, remarkably brave, one of the most dangerous fighters I have ever known, a true warrior. But she looks like an … adolescent." Then with a gleam in his eye he said, "_You_ are a woman."

Bonnie's look of shock turned into a satisfied yet salacious smile as she realized there might still be some glistening in store for that night.

III.

"I'm in the money, I'm in the money …"

"Enough with the show tunes!" Shego interrupted.

"But Shego, we've hit the jackpot," Lore said, waving the PDVI. "And am I ready to test this baby out."

"Men and their toys," she grumbled as she piloted their ship back to the lair.

It was all well and fine to have the Vortex Inducer, she thought. But they still had to find a way to deploy the device. Where they were going to find a ship capable of channeling its energy output, and how they were going to gain control of it, was a mystery.

IV.

"Morning, Ronshine."

Ron opened his eye to see Kim by his side. It still amazed him that they were together this way. A grin spread across his face as she ran her fingers over his bare chest and smiled. He began to respond. Soon she climbed atop him and began to lightly kiss him on the lips. Her thick auburn hair cascaded down around her face. He gently caressed her cheek. "I thought it was 'sunshine' …" he observed.

"I'd so much rather have Ronshine," she purred.

"Ronshine it is, then," he said, pulling her in for another kiss. "So, since you have a slow morning, can the Rondo make you breakfast in bed before he heads off to the galley?"

"Please and thank you," she said. "You know, I could definitely get used to this."

"Waking up with the Ronster or breakfast in bed?"

"Breakfast in bed," she replied with a wink. "Though the Ronster isn't bad, either."

"I dunno about this, KP," he replied. "You're gonna get spoiled."

"Uh huh," she said, brushing her lips on his. "And this is a problem how?"

"Guess you got me there," he offered with a grin. "Okay, eggs and B for my KP," he declared before rolling Kim off of him. He swung his legs out of the bed and stretched.

Kim smiled as she looked at the muscles in Ron's back. He wasn't particularly well developed, just a normal 22-year-old guy in reasonably good shape. Definitely not the hottie she'd always expected she'd end up with. She'd always imagined she'd be with someone well over six feet; Ron was at most two inches taller than she. But none of that mattered now. Ron Stoppable may not have been classic hottie material, but he was something so much more: the guy with whom she wanted to share her life. That he was cute in his own goofy yet special way didn't hurt either; Ron wore his hair short enough that she could appreciate his large and strangely attractive ears. Looking at his body, which she'd gotten to know fairly well in recent days, was a reminder that sometimes the best things in life really aren't what you expect them to be and are often right in front of you.

"Ron?"

"Yeah, Kim?"

"Thanks for being my best friend all these years."

He turned and looked at her. Seeing the expression on her face, he set aside the wisecrack he was about to make and said, "Wouldn't have it any other way, KP."

The two young lovers drank in each other, pleased just to be able to see one another – Kim had tossed aside the blanket; she was wearing the top to Ron's orange pajamas, which was large enough to provide her with cover but short enough to let her show off her legs, while he was wearing the bottoms. That they were now sharing Ron's sleepwear just seemed to be one more sign that they were truly meant to be together.

They were lost in the moment when Picard's voice interrupted their idyll.

"Attention all hands, this is the captain speaking. It is with regret that I must report to you the passing of President Tannis earlier today due to a transporter malfunction. Starfleet intelligence has determined that her death was an accident. As provided for in the Articles of Federation, Steve Barkin has taken the oath of office and is now the new President of the United Federation of Planets. While we mourn the tragic death of Shoren Tannis, we may take comfort that one of Starfleet's own will be at the helm of government. Picard out."

Kim and Ron simply stared at one another in amazement, wonder, and shock.

V.

"Oh, yes, this is very good news indeed, my dear," Lord Montgomery Fiske said to his interlocutor, with whom he was communicating via a secure, secret sub-space channel. "President Barkin is most likely floundering and feeling overwhelmed as he learns just how much Tannis failed to tell him. Given the complications with the Romulans and the Vulcans, I do not think our high school educator is going to worry himself with internal Klingon politics. All the Federation needs is a Chancellor who will honor the Khitomer Accords."

"I think we can arrange for that."

"Very good."

"What of the bat'leth, then?"

"Fear not, I shall be in possession of the Sword of Kahless soon enough."

VI.

"Okay, Doc, what's going on?" Shego asked. She'd not expected to find visitors upon her return. But standing before her were two Starfleet officers.

"Shego, Lore," Drakken said gleefully, "meet the newest members of our evil family. Lieutenants Du and Carter. Gentlemen, say hello to Shego and Lore."

"Hello, Shego and Lore," they said in unison.

Shego looked at Drakken. "Let me guess. You decided to use those gross mind-control slug things?"

"All for the cause of science, Shego," Drakken replied primly.

"Oh, this is good," Lore said. "So, what do you guys do in Starfleet?"

"I am currently seconded to Galactic Justice from Starfleet Intelligence," Du answered in a monotone. "That, however, is cover for my actual assignment with Section 31."

"And what's Section 31?" Shego asked.

"Section 31 is the highly classified covert operations division of Starfleet Intelligence."

"You have got to be kidding me," Shego said, unable to suppress her grin. "This is just too rich!"

"And there's more, my dear Shego. Mr. Carter, tell Shego and Lore where you serve."

"I am an officer in the command division aboard the U.S.S. _Enterprise_, Starfleet registry NCC-1701-D."

"Yesssss!" Lore cried out, pumping his fist.

Drakken was a bit taken aback by Lore's enthusiasm. "I agree that having an officer who serves on board a _Galaxy_-class starship could be helpful, but …"

"You don't get it, Dr D," Lore said. "These Boy Scouts are our ticket to galactic domination."

"How so?" Shego asked.

"Because my dear brother, my dear _identical twin_ brother, serves on board _Enterprise_. Our new friends are going to get us on board."

Drakken's eyes lit up. "And then we can hook up the PDVI and generate a worm hole to go wherever we want …"

"Exactly."

What Lore didn't add was that he was pretty sure they'd also be able to channel the PDVI through the ship's main deflector dish to not only open a wormhole – but create a weapon capable of destroying a planet with one blast.

VII.

Kim jumped out of bed. She didn't care that Dr. Crusher had arranged for her to be off-duty that morning. The Orionisi were scheduled to arrive later in the day and the change at the top of Federation government would surely have repercussions. Given her first-hand knowledge of the new President, she felt she owed it to the captain to be at her station as soon as possible.

"Rain check on breakfast, Ron?" she asked as she flew by him.

"Uh, sure, KP," he said, marveling at how quickly she shifted into what he'd long thought of as her mission mode.

She ducked into the bathroom, then poked her head back out. "Well?"

"What?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"Politics doesn't take care of itself. You know Barkin as well as I do, Ron."

"Yeah, so?"

"You're coming with me to see Captain Picard."

"Oh, okay …" he said, before sitting down on the edge of the bed, where he'd wait before cleaning up himself.

"Ron," she said, locking eyes with him. "If I don't get my bacon, I can at least have some extra Ronshine …" Kim's arched eyebrow and mischievous smile told him all he needed to know.

He got up and joined his girlfriend, knowing the shower could accommodate two.

VIII.

"Captain."

"Ensign Possible, Mr. Stoppable," Picard said, surprised to see them on the bridge at 0800 hours.

"We thought you might want some first-hand perspective on President Barkin," Kim replied.

Picard smiled at Ensign Possible's dedication. He was grateful that Ron had come aboard and helped the young women he now thought of as his most promising junior officer begin to fulfill her potential.

"I would appreciate that very much, Ensign. In fact, I was going to invite you to a meeting to discuss that topic, though I thought you had earned a little rest after yesterday's excitement."

"It was so not the drama, sir," she said, before realizing she was being far more casual with her commanding officer than she intended.

A bemused expression crossed Picard's face. "Indeed. Perhaps we should retire to my ready room?"

Kim and Ron followed Picard to the small office on the port side of the bridge. The captain invited his two guests to sit in the chairs before his desk, then asked them if they wanted anything to drink.

Kim declined, already spoiled by the real coffee that Ron had brought on board; she was finding it difficult to drink the brew created by the replicator.

"Mr. Stoppable?"

"I'll have a super-sized Slurpster," he said.

Kim wanted to gag at the thought of drinking such a sugary, cloying beverage so early in the morning. _Oh well_, she thought, _he can't be perfect. Besides, it will be so worth hearing the captain say 'slurpster.'_

Picard ordered the requested beverage for Ron. With a look of slight distaste on his face, the captain handed his visitor his drink, then ordered himself some Earl Grey tea, hot, before he sat down behind his desk.

"You two would know the President from your high school days in New Middleton," he observed, wondering what the pre-politics Barkin was like.

"Yes, sir," Kim said, surreptitiously watching Ron sip at his drink. He looked so happy to have that straw in his mouth; and that pleased her, especially given all they'd been through the past few days. "He was vice principal."

"And substitute teacher extraordinaire!" Ron chimed in. "Mr. B. taught us algebra, history, flyer's ed, science, English lit," Ron shuddered as he remembered struggling through _Lo, the Plow Shall Till the Soil of Redemption_, "gym, home ec …"

"Ron, _you_ taught home ec," Kim interjected, prompting a surprised look from the captain. "Ron and I signed up for home ec together …" she explained.

"Only because you couldn't get into holophotography and I was shut out of –"

"So not the point, Ron," Kim said with a roll of the eyes before turning back to the captain. "Sir, by the end of the first class, Mr. Barkin had put Ron in charge. By the end of the third session, Ron was in charge of the high school's cafeteria."

Picard couldn't help but be impressed.

"And KP, uh, Ensign Possible, helped me!" Ron said brightly, bringing back unwelcome memories of hair nets to Kim. "Mr. B was a regular Renaissance man."

"Indeed, it seems he was," Picard said. The captain was intrigued that the old solider, who had a reputation as being a bit of a martinet, had been flexible enough to put a teenager in charge of a class and a food service operation.

"Mr. Stoppable, how would you describe Steve Barkin?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

Kim prayed that Ron wouldn't begin having flashbacks of detention.

"Tough and firm," he said evenly.

Kim again rolled her eyes, which Ron saw. "Hey, he had something against me ever since the ninth grade!"

"Ron …" Kim said skeptically.

"Well it's true, Kim." Ron replied before he looked back at Picard. "Mr. B was ready to send me off to detention for breathing. They could have put my name on that room I was in there so often …"

Picard sipped at this tea. He'd already known Ron long enough to know to let him ramble his way to whatever point he had to make.

"… but after Kim, he was probably the most important influence in my life."

Kim's eyes grew as wide as saucers; she also blushed. She'd never known Ron felt that way about Barkin – and it made her feel both very special and a bit girly to know Ron felt that way about her.

"Don't be so surprised, Kim. Mr. B read my essays for the culinary institute. Made me rewrite 'em five times before he said he'd give me a letter of recommendation."

"Steve Barkin wrote you a letter of recommendation?" Kim asked, unable to hide her surprise.

"Yeah," he said with evident pride.

Kim decided she'd have to wait to ask Ron for more details about this topic; even though she hated the thought there were parts, even minor ones, of Ron's life that she didn't know about, Picard was beginning to look impatient. "Sir," she explained, "Mr. Barkin took his work very seriously. Our principal was sort of hands-off and let Mr. Barkin run the school; He acted like he was XO on a starship."

"I see," Picard replied. Leaning back in his chair he asked, "How do you think President Barkin will feel about negotiating with the Orionisi?"

"Oh, that's an easy one," Ron began to answer.

IX.

"Cheese and crackers, man! They're pirates! Brigands. Outlaws!"

"That's one way to describe them, Mr. President. Others might say that they are a force-based entrepreneurial culture."

Barkin stared at his minister of foreign affairs, a haughty Vulcan, through narrowed eyes. Then he settled his gaze on the Chief of Starfleet Operations, a native of New Kyoto, who suddenly felt like a fresh-out-of-the-Academy ensign and now understood how the new President had enjoyed such success as a high school administrator.

"What do you think of our _entrepreneurs_," Barkin asked, saying the last word contemptuously.

"Mr. President," the Starfleet officer replied, "it doesn't matter whether they're pirates or entrepreneurs, we need to keep them on our side. Assuming the Romulans do have the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer, we're going to have to deploy the Fleet along the Neutral Zone."

"Excuse me, Admiral," Barkin said sharply. "I may have cashed out of the service as a louie, but if I read those reports correctly, the Romulans can create a black hole wherever they darn well please, including 300 miles straight up from where we're sitting. I'm not very interested in having a fleet of warbirds appearing in equatorial orbit around an undefended Earth. Shouldn't we be stationing the fleet here?"

"Sir, we can't be sure that they'd attack Earth. They could also strike at Vulcan, or _Qo'noS_ or even Cardassia. By deploying the Fleet along the neutral zone, we can at least let the Romulans know that if they move their assets against any part of the Federation, they can expect the most potent strike force ever assembled to move on Romulus"

Barkin sighed. His gut told him that Earth would be the target of anyone in possession of the PDVI. Still, he knew that from a tactical perspective, his admiral was right. If they split up the Fleet, its deterrent value would be greatly diminished. The only way to keep the Romulans in check was to let them know that their homeworld was at risk should they try something rash. "Mutual Assured Destruction 101," the former teacher said evenly.

"Yes, Mr. President," the CSO agreed.

"What do you think?" Barkin asked the chief of the Federation's intelligence services.

Betty Director felt like a tenth grader who'd just been caught passing notes in class. It didn't help that though her top agent was on the case, he had yet to report in since communicating that he had a valuable lead. "What the admiral suggests is sound," she observed. "Deterrence did keep the peace between the Americans and the Soviets in the 20th century, after all."

Barkin snorted. "Didn't do a very good job in the 21st century, though, did it?"

Director shifted uncomfortably. "No, sir. It didn't. But I don't see any alternatives."

"So what you're all telling me is that we have to make nicey-nice to these thugs unless we want additional trouble."

Three heads nodded at him.

"Fine. Write it up in a memo and give me a copy with all three of your signatures …"

The admiral, spymaster, and diplomat all looked at Barkin with surprise.

"… Five years in high school administration was pretty good preparation for a life in politics, people. I may be responsible for choosing what to do, but I'll be darned if mine are the only fingerprints on this decision." Barkin stared stonily at his advisors, then added, "By the way, I've been in this job for less than twelve hours. You've been in yours a lot longer. In the future, I expect results, not explanations."

As the three senior officials got up to leave, Barkin called out to his Foreign Minister. "You have confidence in this Fiske guy?"

The Vulcan dipped his head slightly. "Yes, Mr. President. Lord Fiske is one of the most skilled diplomats in the galaxy. He will most assuredly achieve his objectives at the negotiating table."

X.

The discussion about Barkin concluded, Kim and Ron eyed each other. They knew that this would be as good a time as any to tell Picard about the Sword of Kahless and its effect on Kim during her encounter with Grilka.

Kim explained what had happened to her on board the Klingon battle cruiser. Ron followed up by describing his experiences.

Picard frowned. He'd been in space long enough to know nothing was too strange to be true. The scientist in him assumed that what was happening involved some sort of quantum resonance. The anthropologist in him wanted to know more about the world in which the bat'leth was forged. And the Starfleet officer in him was inclined to impound the blade as a security measure.

"Mr. Stoppable, are you confident that you can control the Sword?" the captain asked. "If there is even a remote possibility that you cannot, I will need to sequester it. I cannot have you succumbing to any dark impulses."

"Captain, trust me, this Sword and me, we're like best buds. I know it sounds weird, but it's true."

Kim wondered if Picard was going to take the Sword, just to be safe. If she were in his position, she wouldn't be as worried about what might happen with Ron and the weapon as she would be were someone else to come into possession of it. That said, she felt the Sword belonged with Ron. She'd experienced its strange, warping aura and worried about what might happen were it to fall into the hands of someone malign. "Sir, I feel confident that we can secure the bat'leth in Ron's quarters. It will be safe there."

"Very well then, Ensign. Make it so."

XI.

The meeting with Picard concluded and a larger conference coming in less than ninety minutes, Kim, who was in uniform, decided to take the helm. She may have loved being with Ron, but she loved piloting _Enterprise_ almost as much, and he had no problem with that. He thought Kim's new job was pretty cool, after all. Indeed, he was a bit jealous – he knew he'd never get to fly a starship. Considering the number of attempts he had to make to get his flyer's license, he had to admit that probably wasn't a bad idea.

So, leaving Kim at her station, he made his way to the galley. His galley. It may not have been a four-star restaurant in San Francisco, but it was his. Or at least it was under his sway. He greeted his two assistants, then found his way to the small office he had at his disposal. He knew he was going to have to prepare something special for the visiting Orionisi.

Ron was searching the culinary database when he was interrupted.

"Excuse me, I hope this is not a bad time."

Ron looked up to see Rufus. He chuckled, still amazed by how much the naked mole rat and Worf not only sounded like one another but spoke in similar fashion. "Nah, c'mon in. I was just nosing around to see what I might make for our visiting guests from Orion …"

Rufus wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"… You don't like them, do you?" Ron asked.

"It is not a matter of like or dislike. They are slavers. They are without honor."

"Yeah, I've heard that," Ron said. "To be honest, I'm kind of amazed that Captain Picard will even talk with them."

"It is not his choice."

"I guess you're right. Even he has bosses."

"Yes. And I do not trust them."

"Well, Nechayev may be a pain, but …" Ron agreed.

"She is cold and calculating, but is proud to wear a Starfleet uniform. She takes her duties seriously."

"Fiske?" Ron wondered aloud.

"He is without honor," Rufus stated flatly.

"I don't know about honor and all that, but he sure gives me the heebie-jeebies. I told KP …"

"KP?"

"… uh, Ensign Possible," Ron explained, "that his lordship is five hundred light years of bad road. I don't like being around him."

"Then you are perceptive."

Ron's eyes opened wide. "Do you have some dirt on the dude?"

"No, I do not," Rufus conceded. "But I am a mole rat, and we are recognized throughout the galaxy as excellent judges of character. Be careful, Ron Stoppable."

Ron gulped. "So, uh, other than the warning, you have anything else on your mind?"

"Yes. We must discuss salsa …"

XII.

Ron was sitting at the conference table in the Observation Lounge. He was glad that Kim was by his side. With them in the room were Picard, Nechayev, Fiske, Data, Troi, Worf, and Bonnie. Though Picard was sitting at the head of the table, Nechayev, sitting at his right, was running the meeting.

"Ms. Rockwaller, do you have anything to add to what Ensign Possible and Mr. Stoppable have told us about President Barkin?"

"No, ma'am," Bonnie replied. "My experience of Mr. Barkin was similar to that of Ensign Possible and Mr. Stoppable."

Kim was impressed with Bonnie's demeanor. Her onetime rival was comporting herself like a professional. Kim thought that Bonnie, if she could maintain this level of poise while retaining some of the underhandedness she'd shown so often in high school, could actually develop into a formidable diplomat.

"Very well, then. Let's spend a few minutes talking about our upcoming visitors," Nechayev said before turning to Ron. "Mr. Stoppable, you may be excused. Your presence is no longer required."

"Uh, sure," he said as he rose from his seat.

Kim was tweaked. Ron may not have been an officer, or even a member of Starfleet, but she didn't like the admiral treating him like he was, well, the kitchen help.

"Excuse me, Admiral."

All eyes turned to Fiske.

"Yes, Ambassador?" Nechayev asked.

"There is a matter I believe we should discuss before Mr. Stoppable departs: the disposition of the Sword of Kahless."

"Would you care to explain, Ambassador?" Picard asked, suspecting he already knew what Fiske had in mind: the diplomat/archaeologist most likely wanted to take control of the Sword so he could study it at his leisure.

"The Sword of Kahless is one of the most important historical artifacts in the Alpha Quadrant. Surely it cannot remain in the hands of a private individual!"

"What are you suggesting, Ambassador?"

"It belongs in a museum."

"On _Qo'noS,_ I presume," Worf interjected.

"Well, yes, in due time, of course," Fiske said smoothly. "However, as it was discovered by a Federation citizen, it would be appropriate for it to first spend some time on Earth."

"Lord Fiske, you seem to be forgetting that the Sword is now also part of Klingon political and cultural life," Picard noted.

"Not at all, Captain. Indeed this is another reason for the Federation to maintain control of the weapon for the time being. We would not want to destabilize Klingon politics, would we?"

"I must confess that the Ambassador is making some valid observations," Nechayev said. "Mr. Stoppable, I want you to surrender the Sword to Mr. Worf, who will secure it for transport back to Earth with Lord Fiske."

Kim was seething and was about to say something when she saw Bonnie out of the corner of her eye. Her erstwhile rival shook her head slowly. Bonnie was right, of course. Kim could not afford to directly challenge an admiral. She didn't have to, however.

"Sorry, Admiral, not gonna happen …"

Nechayev was taken aback by Ron's refusal.

"… First off, you can't order me to do anything; I'm still a civilian. Second, I've been recognized by Gowron as the Chosen One; he might think you're dissing me – and him – by taking away the Sword. Third, I paid for it, even have a receipt for it. I own it and it's not for sale. End of story."

"I think not, Mr. Stoppable. You are now part of the crew of a Starfleet vessel, and are therefore under my command. You will turn the Sword over to Mr. Worf. That is a direct order."

Ron tried to shake off the suddenly potent, indeed visceral, feeling that he could not let Fiske have the blade. Ron turned to Kim, locking eyes with her. They had known each other long enough and had now bonded in such a way that in the right situation they could communicate without words. As the pained expression formed on her face, he knew she understood what he was about to do. That was confirmed when she nodded.

He turned back to Nechayev and said evenly, "If that's the way you want to play it, Admiral, I guess I really have only one choice …"

Ron took a deep breath, then looked at Picard.

"… Sorry, Captain. It would have been great to stay on board. But I quit."

_TBC …_


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks to conan98002, spectre666, AtomicFire, JPMod, captainkodak1, Ultimate Naco Topping, Molloy, Matri, crashfourit, continental-line, whitem, Whisper from the Shadows, Intrepidwarriors, Visigoth29527, suforst, mattb3671, Taechunsa, campy, Ezbok58a, MichaelCross, Slyfer, jasminevr, Cego, TexasDad, Langwurst, Commander Argus, Supreme Admiral of the Web, momike, kemiztri for reviewing; thanks to everyone else for reading!

Thanks to campy for his beta- and proofreading.

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; it you saw it on _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I.

"Surely you aren't going to let that buffoon get away with this?" Fiske demanded.

"Ambassador, I would kindly ask you to use care when referring to a member of my crew," Picard replied coolly.

"Ex-member, Captain," Nechayev noted sharply. "Mr. Stoppable resigned his position, and while I'm aware that he originally came aboard as part of your ship leave program, he stopped being a guest the moment he accepted employ on this vessel. _Enterprise_ is not a cruise ship; I expect him to be on the next available transport."

"Understood, Admiral," Picard replied icily. "For the record, let me state that I disagree with your decisions regarding this matter and that I will be filing a formal protest with Starfleet Command."

"Captain, if you were to set aside your personal feelings for Ensign Possible and Mr. Stoppable, you would admit that I am correct. You've seen what the Sword can do."

"Exactly!" Fiske said. "He is but a boy, and now heaven knows what he will do with the bat'leth."

"Mr. Fiske," Picard said, pointedly omitting the ambassador's title, "that boy has shown bravery that if demonstrated by a Starfleet officer would have earned him an Antares Cluster. He may claim ownership of the weapon because he bought it, but his right to bear the Sword of Kahless arises from how he has used it. His mastery of the weapon is evident, and the Klingons, who I would think know more than we about it, seem satisfied for it to remain in Mr. Stoppable's possession." Picard then looked to Nechayev. "And Admiral, it is not I who is letting personal feelings interfere with command decisions—"

Nechayev's eyes flashed. "Captain …" she warned.

Seeing his superior's anger, Picard decided not to pursue the matter further; besides, he had a different line of attack to pursue. "You might wish to know that immediately before our meeting – and before I had a chance to brief you – Ensign Possible told me of her experience when wielding the blade aboard Gowron's ship." Picard then briefed Nechayev and Fiske on what he had learned.

"That only supports my argument!" the Englishman said. "The Sword of Kahless must be quarantined and studied."

"Under your supervision, of course," Picard said with an edge. "How very convenient, Ambassador."

"Are you questioning my integrity, Picard?" Fiske asked.

"Not at all, Ambassador," Picard replied in a way that conveyed that was exactly what he was doing.

"Gentlemen, we're being distracted. The issue still remains what is to be done with the Sword of Kahless. I am sorry, Captain, but what you have told us only reinforces my belief that we must find a way to impound the weapon."

"Good," Fiske said smugly. "Then I shall be able to study it …"

"I think not, Lord Fiske," Nechayev interjected, a look of contempt on her face; while she may have disagreed with Picard on many matters large and small she shared the captain's evident low opinion of the diplomat. "Given what Ensign Possible wanted to do under the bat'leth's influence, I am loath to think what might happen were it to fall into the hands of someone dangerous or malicious."

"What exactly do you plan to do, Admiral?" Picard asked.

"I'm going to recommend that it be destroyed."

II.

Kim and Ron sat on Ron's bunk, holding hands, her head resting on his shoulder. They sat in silence, staring across the room at the Sword.

"I hate that stupid thing," Ron finally groused.

"Ron, it saved our lives."

"Yeah, I guess so. If I didn't have it on the moon …"

"Ron, forget the moon. If you didn't have it in the warehouse, I wouldn't have been able to use it in my fight with Shego, and who knows what would have happened."

"You'd still have beaten her …"

"So says Mr. Smooth …"

"Nah, I've seen you in action. The best Shego could have hoped for was a draw. And that's with those glowing hands, which, I must admit, while dangerous were pretty badical."

"Oh?" she asked, now looking at him with arched eyebrow.

"Though not as badical as you, KP."

"Nice recovery, Captain Romance," she said before kissing him on the cheek.

Ron smiled, but then sighed. "You know, KP, I feel like it owns me now. Things were going so good for us and … Man, has this been a crazy week."

"We'll make it work, Ron. You'll see."

"You sure?"

"Ferociously sure. I didn't wait all this time to realize you were the perfect guy for me for nothing. You're stuck with me, Stoppable." Kim brought her lips to Ron's and gave him a slow, deep kiss. "You know, maybe I'll just resign my commission. Kissing you is so much more rewarding than serving in Starfleet."

"I'd be all about you quitting Starfleet if I thought it was a good idea, KP."

"Well, maybe it is …" she said seriously.

Ron, mouth agape, looked at Kim.

"… Ron, don't get me wrong. I love being in Starfleet. I've been able to do so many incredible things, meet so many amazing people. Piloting this ship, serving with the captain, Worf, Data, seeing new worlds. I have so much respect for people like Commander Riker and Mr. O'Brien. Not to mention Guinan. But then there are people like Nechayev – and she's the kind of person who's in charge. I had that investigation under control only for her to take me off the case for her Number One agent, who doesn't seem to be able to find a warp core in an engine room. And don't even get me started on the way she's treated you. You suffered that injury, do all sorts of diplomacy, and all she can do is yank your chain."

Ron just shook his head. "KP, you know that quitting isn't your style. Sure, this outfit's not perfect, but if you stay in, maybe you can work with people like the captain to change things. Besides, all you ever really wanted was to be in Starfleet, and you really do look hot in the uniform …"

"Yes, but that was before I realized I wanted to be with you. Ron, things have changed the past few days. I still love the uniform, especially since I know how it affects you, but suddenly, it's not the most important thing in my life." Kim kissed him on the cheek to make her point. "Maybe I could get a job piloting, maybe even commanding, a private ship."

"You'd hate that, KP. That would be JV. And you like being in the pros!"

Kim sighed, then flashed Ron a knowing smile. "You know me too well, you know that?"

"Hey," Ron said brightly, "that's what you get for talking to the funny-looking kid in the playground!"

"I'll remember that the next time I enroll in pre-K …" Kim replied affectionately.

III.

"Come in," Picard said.

"Captain, we need to talk," Guinan declared as she entered his ready room.

Picard ignored the El Aurian's presumptuousness; he knew it was the woman's nature to do as, and go where, she pleased, and while that could be trying at times, she rarely did things or went places without well-justified purpose. "May I get you something to drink?" he asked.

"Thank you, no. So, I hear that Stoppable's been kicked off Enterprise because he won't give up the Sword."

Picard arched an eyebrow and snorted. "News does travel fast."

"It's a small ship," Guinan observed. "You know, Jean-Luc, there's a way you can keep him on board."

Picard let out an audible sigh. "I know, Guinan. But Ron was adamant that he would not surrender the bat'leth."

"I wasn't talking about the Sword …"

Picard looked at his visitor.

"… They could get married. As Possible's husband, he'd be entitled to stay with her."

"Guinan, let us leave aside the fact that they have been dating for approximately one week. Their romantic lives are none of our affair. Besides, if he stays on board, married or no, we're back where we started, with him under Nechayev's jurisdiction."

"Let's get the easy problem off the table first, shall we?" Guinan said as she sat down before Picard's desk. "Nechayev can only boss Stoppable around if he's an actual member of the crew – either uniformed, like you, or civilian, like me. She cannot order him to do anything if he's on board as a civilian dependent; only you can, and then only with regard to the safe operation of Enterprise."

"Go on," Picard said, as he sipped his tea.

"I know you've got a lot on your mind, Captain, so let me refresh your memory. Starfleet Regulation 197, Section 1, Subsection 1 states: 'the legally designated spouse of a serving member of the Fleet may, as the recognized dependent of said service member, remain without assignment or duty aboard the ship to which the aforementioned service member is assigned for a period of, but not to exceed, 120 days.' That would at least buy some time to sort out this mess."

Picard pursed his lips. "Your knowledge of Starfleet regulatory arcana is most impressive; that would indeed apply to this situation. However, the fact remains that their personal affairs are none of our business."

"Then we should make it our business," Guinan said with surprising vehemence. "You know those two belong together. He lives for her; and after what's happened to him he doesn't have much else to live for. And without him, she'll be lost again, just another run-of-the-mill junior officer destined to be another run-of-the-mill lieutenant commander on some transport. Those two are more in love than any couple I've seen in the last two hundred years; I'm still amazed it took them so long to see it. We can't let them be split up. Not now."

"Guinan, I do not believe that involving ourselves in the love lives of members of this crew is particularly prudent –"

"Prudent? Oh come on. You can do better than that, Jean-Luc. Since when has 'prudent' been your watchword? And don't tell me you don't care about those two kids, and not just as captain of this ship. I know you like them. Do you really want to be responsible for –"

Picard, now smiling, raised a hand to silence his visitor. "Guinan, you are an inexorable force of nature. Now, not that I am suggesting we encourage them to do anything, but, according to the Klingons, Kim and Ron are already mated. They would merely need to swear the Oath to formalize their status as being married under Klingon law," he observed, "which would give them standing as a married couple in the Federation."

"Great," she said. "So you'll tell them?"

"Guinan, given the delicate nature of my relations with the admiral, I think it best that I not be the one to apprise Kim and Ron of this option, not that I am saying anyone should. However, hypothetically, as Arbiter of Succession, I will witness their oath, should they so desire."

"I can work with that," she said as she rose from her seat.

"You know," Picard observed with a wry expression, "you can be most trying at times."

"Just doing my job, Captain," she replied with a Cheshire Cat-grin as she left the ready room.

IV.

He was tall, with thick brown hair, a tanned complexion, and a strong, chiseled chin. He flashed a confident smile at Shego, Lore, and Drakken.

"Hi!"

"He's friendly enough," Shego snorted. "He have a name?"

"Shego and Lore, meet my crowning achievement, Synthodrone 901 …"

"But you can call me Eric," the newcomer said. Shego and Lore were impressed. Stan and Ollie looked lifelike enough, could even shapeshift. But neither actually spoke or seemed to have a personality.

Lore looked Eric up and down, then cocked his head. As he circled the synthodrone, he made facial gestures identical to the ones his brother Data would have made in that situation, for as much as he detested the fact, he and Data were twins, programmed by the same man. "Very impressive, Dr. D. So, tell me. '901' – is that some sort of mad scientist numbering convention like the Acme Ray Gun 9000 or does Eric here have some siblings?"

A satisfied grin spread across Drakken's face, then he cocked an eyebrow and said with satisfaction. "Oh, it's a mad scientist thing all right …"

Lore looked disappointed.

"… But who said I can't have my evil cake and eat it too?"

Shego's eyes opened wide as she considered the possibility.

"Walk with me, talk with me," the blue-skinned villain ordered as he headed for the door. "I think you should meet the rest of the family."

V.

"Enter," Fiske commanded.

The door to his quarters slid open and Yori Tanaka entered.

She was confronted by the ambassador's back. His hands were folded behind him and he was staring out the large windows of his VIP quarters.

"They are most impressive, are they not, Lieutenant?"

Though Yori was unsure of what to make of this summons, she knew enough to be uneasy. The diplomat was powerful, well-connected, and aware of her status as a Section 31 operative. Cautiously, she responded, "If you refer to the stars, Lord Fiske, I must agree."

Fiske stood in silence for a long moment.

Yori controlled her breathing to steady her nerves. The only thing to be heard in the cabin was the low thrum of the warp engine. Usually, she found the sound comforting, reassuring in its regularity. But now she found it oppressive, as if something terrible was heading towards her.

Finally, Fiske turned to look at her.

"I have heard that the Yamanuchi School curriculum prizes classical Earth literature."

"Yes, Ambassador."

"Tell me, then. Who said: 'If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country'?"

"E.M. Forster, the 20th century English author. One of your countrymen, Lord Fiske."

"Very good, Lieutenant," the diplomat said with a graceful dip of his head. "At the Academy I presume you studied Starfleet history."

"Yes, sir. It was mandatory."

"Then you can tell me who said: 'The good of the many outweighs the good of the one.'"

"Ambassador, then Captain, Spock, in the 23rd century, when he sacrificed himself to save the original Enterprise."

"Tell me, Ms. Tanaka, who was right, Mr. Forster or Mr. Spock?"

VI.

Kim and Ron lay curled up on the bunk snuggling, enjoying the moment together. Knowing they were facing a long separation, neither wanted to move. But then the door chimed.

Ron sighed. "Just a moment," he said as he and Kim sat up and hurriedly straightened their clothes and checked their hair in the mirror. "Come in."

The door opened and Guinan came in. "Is this a bad time?" she asked with a playful smile.

Kim, seeing the flustered expression on Ron's face said, "It's no big, Guinan." Then Kim looked at Ron and said, "I'll see you later?"

"You got it, KP," Ron answered.

"Actually, I want to speak to both of you," the bartender said. "Have a seat …"

Kim and Ron did as instructed; it was impossible not to respond to Guinan's natural air of command.

"… So, I heard about the latest development in your career, Stoppable …"

Ron's shoulders slumped. Kim wrapped a reassuring arm around him.

"… Nechayev's a piece of work, that's for sure," Guinan continued. "I take it you'd rather stay here with Possible."

Ron looked at Guinan like the woman had asked if he'd like to keep breathing. "Well, duh."

Guinan ignored the response before looking at Kim. "And I guess you'd like him to stay?"

"Obvious much?" Kim asked, unable to hide her own annoyance with the situation.

"Okay, just wanted to make sure of that before I proceeded." Guinan, who had been standing, made her way to a chair and sat down. "I think I have a solution to your problem. Here, as Possible likes to say, is the sitch …"

VII.

President Barkin looked at the memo that had been placed before him. As requested, the heads of Starfleet, Galactic Justice, and the Ministry of Intergalactic Affairs had put their recommendations in writing. It was small comfort to the former teacher. He knew that if this decision backfired, it would be his name, not those of the others, that history would record.

Barkin picked up another padd and re-read its contents. He sighed. Then, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm and deep misgivings, he affixed his signature to Starfleet General Order 5479, ordering the Fleet, with the exception of Enterprise, which was on a critical diplomatic mission bearing directly on the unfolding crisis, to deploy to the Romulan Neutral Zone.

VIII.

Things had not gone as Guinan planned.

She had started by telling Kim and Ron of her understanding of their status under Klingon law, how they were all but married, that all they needed to do was exchange the Oath and they would be wed under Klingon law, and how, given their standing within Klingon society, their union would be recognized under Federation law.

Kim had listened quietly but intently.

Ron fidgeted before blurting out, "I can't do it. I'm sorry, I just can't do it, KP."

Kim, who had been as caught off guard as Ron by what Guinan was suggesting, looked at him. Much to her surprise, she was crestfallen. She had taken what they did with the Klingons seriously; apparently, Ron had seen things differently. She stood up and smoothed out the front of her uniform. "I understand, Ron," she said in a distant voice.

"Kim, look, I, you, uh …" he stammered.

"I think I should be going," she said as she walked to the door. Before she left, she turned and said, "I still love you."

Then the doors slid shut behind her.

IX.

Kim wandered the corridors aimlessly, not sure where to go.

She was angry, hurt, confused. She loved Ron, of that she was sure. And she was confident he loved her in return. Yet given a way to stay on board, Ron was still going to leave with that stupid bat'leth.

The sensible part of her said it was just as well – getting married after one week of dating made little sense. Their romantic relationship, as intense and as deep as it was, forged in the crucible of recent events and built on a foundation of nearly two decades of friendship, was still developing, still new territory for both of them. Better to date, have a long engagement, then get married. Though she wondered if that was really going to happen; if Ron followed his newly found Klingon muse, he might drift away from her. A long-distance interstellar relationship was difficult to maintain under the best circumstances; Ron being a big wheel on _Qo'noS_ didn't strike Kim as optimal for their long-term romantic prospects.

Her frustration began to mount. She wanted to hit something. Kicking might be satisfying, too, she told herself.

She made her way to the gym. There, she changed into some workout clothes and began to pummel a punching bag, first with her fists, then with her feet.

"Ouch …"

Kim turned to the familiar voice.

"… Remind me not to get on your bad side. I'd hate for you to do to me what you're doing to that bag."

"So not going to happen, Commander. I'm really not interested in a court martial."

"Good to hear," Riker said, flashing her a friendly grin that said this was going to be a conversation between friends. "So, what's up? I thought you'd be spending every free moment with Ron, given what's happened."

She sighed. "I thought so, too …" she said, explaining the situation to her fellow officer.

"Kim, I know this is going to come as a surprise to you, but I'm not exactly the master of long-term relationships …"

Kim couldn't help but smile as she saw the impish twinkle in Riker's eyes. Will Riker was known as a player whose idea of commitment seemed to be a second date.

"… But let me give you some advice, anyway. You and Ron have something special …"

"I know, Will," Kim said, still finding it strange to call senior officers by their first names when off duty; however, once she'd played poker with them and been assigned to the bridge crew, they had all, especially Riker, insisted on being addressed informally. "It's just that –"

"Do you know what an _Imzadi_ is?" he asked.

Kim shook her head.

"It's a Betazoid term; it's actually kind of hard to explain," he explained. "It's like 'beloved,' but something more yet one needn't be romantically involved. Deanna is my _Imzadi_. As you may know, we were a couple once; now we're, well, best friends. Like you and Ron were before you began dating …"

Kim listened to Riker with rapt attention.

"… well, that's not quite right. Deanna is convinced that you two are in a league of your own, and I have to agree. It's not like Deanna and I have known each other our entire lives."

"That's ferociously sweet, Will, but just a short while ago, when presented with the option of taking the Oath and solemnizing our status as Chosen One and Consort …"

Riker cocked an eyebrow.

"… Sorry. It's some Klingon thing; it would be the same as marrying me, which would let us stay together and let him keep the Sword of Kahless. Anyway, Ron blurted out that he couldn't do it. He reacted like I was asking him to share his quarters with a monkey …"

Riker shot Kim a perplexed glance.

"… long story, don't ask," she said.

"Kim," Riker replied, "Did you ask him why?"

"Well, no, but it seemed pretty clear he thought –"

"You know," Riker interjected, "you like to jump to conclusions …"

Kim was about to protest but Riker held up two hands to stop her.

"… I do, too," he said with a grave expression. "Eight days ago, I decided you weren't ready to be promoted to lieutenant, but Deanna noticed a surge in your confidence after Ron arrived and encouraged me to wait on making a recommendation. I decided to give you a shot to prove yourself."

"The array," Kim whispered.

Riker nodded. "And you did, so I'm glad I listened to Deanna; I was going to make a recommendation without all the facts. Turned out deciding to give you that extra pip was one of the easiest things the captain's had to do in a long time. It's a damned shame Nechayev took it away; you earned it."

Kim sat silently for a moment, considering what Riker had told her. "If you'll excuse me, I need to find Ron."

X.

After Kim had left, Ron stared at the door, then Guinan. The look on Kim's face told him that he'd hurt her more than he ever imagined possible – and that was the last thing he intended. Without saying a word, he got up and ran for the turbolift, knowing what he had to do.

Moments later, the doors opened on the bridge. He exited and jogged down the ramp.

Picard looked up. "Mr. Stoppable?"

"Time for the Chosen Dude to call in some favors, Captain," he said.

Picard gazed at Ron. "Oh?"

"Yeah. We need to talk and I need to make a long distance call, pronto …"

XI.

Kim couldn't fathom why he was in Picard's ready room, but that's where the computer told her she'd find Ron.

She wondered if he was arranging transport to _Qo'noS_; that would be a logical place for him to take the Sword. She didn't care, though. All she knew was that she needed to talk with him. Regardless of how surprised she was by what Ron said, she knew she shouldn't have walked out on him. She was sure she would never forget the pained look on his face when she said she thought she should go.

The turbolift arrived at the bridge. She exited and found Data sitting in the captain's chair.

"Ron is in with the captain, Ensign. I believe they are expecting you."

Her curiosity piqued, Kim approached the doors, pressed the chime, announced herself, and entered.

"Sir …" she said, looking at her commanding officer, who was wearing a bemused expression.

"Ensign, if you'll excuse me," Picard said, leaving Kim and Ron alone.

The two longtime friends turned lovers looked at one another.

"Ron, I'm sorry, I …"

"Kim, sit down," he said. "Please."

Her attention captured by his serious tone of voice, she took a seat on the small couch, where he joined her.

"I shouldn't have wigged out back there, KP."

"Ron …" she began to protest.

"Just listen, 'kay?" he asked as he took her hands. "It all hit me out of the blue. I know what we said with the Klingons about Chosen Ones and Consorts and everything. I think it's cool they think we're mated or whatever. But I'm not, we're not, Klingon." Ron nervously began to bite his lip, Kim responded by squeezing his hands. "KP, it would be awesome to be married, really married, to you; I didn't forget that talk we had the first night we were together. But I'm scared. I mean, this is all so new and things are happening so quickly and I don't want to mess things up like I always do …"

"Ron, I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "Since the moment you stepped on this ship you've been incredible. Brave, resourceful, loyal, funny, romantic, loving, ferociously sexy."

He reddened, then smiled sheepishly. "Thanks, KP. Look, here's the deal: saying we're married because the Klingons say we are just seems wrong. So," he took a deep breath, "I just used Captain Picard's subspace communications thingie to make a priority call to your dad …"

Kim's eyes seemed to grow as large as the saucer section of the _Enterprise-D_.

"… Explained the situation, and asked him if it was okay to marry you. After I convinced him you were okay – man, did he freak when he saw my face – and told him what was up, he said 'yes,' though he did promise that if I do anything to hurt you he's going to use me for some trans-dimensional travel experiments he's been cooking up. So," Ron said as he dropped off the couch and onto one knee, "I know it's all backwards, and we'll probably screw things up a lot at the beginning because we're both new at the whole relationship thing and we'll have fights and I'll have to sleep on the floor of the Shuttle Bay and we won't always know what to do and you'll have days when you'll want to shoot me out a photon torpedo tube and I'll think you're being too bossy, but I love you, and have for a long, long time, and want to be with you for the rest of my life and, well, will you marry me anyway? In a, uh, ceremony that humans might recognize?"

Kim smiled, then felt herself begin to tear up. She had never imagined being proposed to in this manner, most definitely not just a week after she began dating someone. But the last seven days had been nothing if not a series of unexpected events and revelations, right from the moment Ron appeared on the transporter pad and lost his trousers, eliciting a reaction on her part that she came to recognize as the emergence of her love for him. She brought her hands to her mouth, closed her eyes, opened them, then nodded, at first slowly, then more vigorously. Then she took Ron's hand and whispered, "Yes … _Imzadi_."

Ron didn't know what an _Imzadi_ was, but the expression on Kim's face told him it had to be something pretty darned badical.

XII.

Given that the Orionisi were due to arrive in a little over three hours and it was learned that the transport _Mathewes_, which Nechayev would demand that Ron board for the trip back to Earth, would be on station just four hours after that, Captain Picard suggested the ceremony proceed as soon as possible. It was agreed that Kim and Ron would meet back on the bridge within the hour.

There wasn't much time for preparations or to extend invitations, so Kim and Ron decided to split forces. Ron spoke with Worf, Data, Rufus, O'Brien, and Geordi, along with his two assistants from the galley. All were honored to be part of the festivities, though Worf was disappointed that Ron chose not to have a traditional Klingon wedding. Kim, meanwhile, approached Guinan; Yori; Deanna; Beverly; Riker, who was bemused to be included with the women; her old colleagues from Security, and Bonnie, who was surprised but pleased to be invited by her erstwhile rival.

Much to Bonnie's annoyance, she was unable to attend due to preparations for the conference; still, she felt she could participate by ensuring Nechayev was kept fully occupied, lest she try to find some way to disrupt the wedding. Bonnie had seen enough of the admiral to be convinced that Nechayev, despite her respect for Kim's abilities and flash of humanity on Gowron's ship, had it out for both Kim and Ron. A few days earlier she would have encouraged her boss's animus; now she thought it rather pointless and unproductive. Kim was just a lowly junior officer and Ron was an out-of-work cook. If you're going to get catty, Bonnie thought, it should be with someone worthy of your attention.

Bonnie found another way to be involved, too: knowing Kim was going to be busy getting ready for the ceremony and half-convinced Ron would show up on the bridge in one of his old jerseys, she insisted on picking out a suit for him. There was no way she was going to let him dress like a dork for his wedding. Some things just weren't done.

Ron arrived first and, at Data's prompting, took a place before the giant view screen next to Picard, who had donned his dress uniform.

Kim arrived shortly thereafter.

Ron had always assumed he'd be at Kim's wedding. He hoped that he would be in the wedding party and imagined she would be wearing a white dress with her long auburn hair cascading about her shoulders. Now, he was indeed at her wedding, but he was the groom and she was wearing her dress uniform with her hair put up. As he watched her emerge from the turbolift and walk down the ramp, he thought she was breathtaking and couldn't help but daydream about how nice it would be to let down her hair.

Kim looked at Ron. She had always assumed he'd be at her wedding; indeed, she assumed her best friend would be the best man. Instead, he was the groom, wearing a suit that, with his scars and eye-patch, made the usually goofy-looking Ron Stoppable look dashing and alluringly dangerous. Kim knew she'd have to thank Bonnie for helping Ron pick out his wardrobe; she smiled as she imagined what her fiancé of one hour would be wearing had he received fashion assistance from Worf or Data.

The two people who had known one another since the age of four and a half reached for each other's hands and exchanged smiles. Then, they turned to face Picard.

"For centuries," he announced, "the most joyful honor afforded to a ship's captain has been the right to join two people in matrimony. Today, I am most fortunate to exercise this ancient privilege as we gather to witness the union of these two old friends, these two old best friends, who have –"

The bridge was filled with a blinding light.

"Q!" Picard roared.

"Q!" Kim growled.

"Dude, I am so not making you lobster risotto! In case you haven't noticed, I'm getting married here," Ron snapped.

"I know, and I'm so sorry I'm late," Q said. "Such poor form from the best man."

Kim folded her arms across her chest and arched an eyebrow. "You've got some 'splainin' to do, Omnipotent Boy."

"Ah, my dear Kimberly. So lovely, yet so tart. This is supposed to be the biggest day of your life. And this is the best you can do? A dowdy old uniform?"

"I like the uniform, Q," Ron said in a warning tone, eliciting a smile from his bride-to-be.

"Yes, I'm sure you do. But you also get your clothes at Smarty Mart. You just let your best man take care of everything."

"Q –" Kim, Ron, and Picard all said as he snapped his fingers.

Kim looked down to see herself wearing a beautiful yet simple white taffeta wedding gown. Ron found that he was dressed in a traditional black tuxedo, as were all the men, save Picard. The woman all wore surprisingly tasteful bridesmaids' dresses. The captain, much to his chagrin, found himself dressed as a minister.

"Much better, don't you think?" a now formally clad Q asked. "Oh, wait, something's missing."

He snapped his fingers and, much to everyone's complete surprise, Kim and Ron's families appeared on the bridge of _Enterprise._

"Okay, this has now reached level-ten weirdness," Kim said to Ron.

"I'd actually go with level-fifteen," he replied.

"Kimmie-cub?" her father asked.

"Dr. James Timothy Possible, I've always wanted to meet you. You know, you're one of the smartest humans in the galaxy," Q enthused. "Though that's not saying much."

James Possible looked at Q, who reminded him of a variety show emcee he'd once seen at a convention of starship designers on Earth. "Kim, what have I told you about associating with show folk?"

"Dad, he's not show folk; he's an omnipotent being who –"

"Dr. P, don't worry," Ron said cutting off Kim. "It's a big ship and we usually stay away from the performers, who are just with us for a really short time until we can leave them off at New Las Vegas."

James breathed a sigh of relief before clapping Ron on the back. "I knew I could count on you, Ronald."

Kim's brothers, both high school seniors with plans to enroll at the Academy, began looking around the bridge; Ron's father, always easygoing, joined them. Kim's mother, who was clearly intrigued by what was happening, put her arm around Ron's mother as the latter woman, upon seeing her son's face, began mumbling "Ronnie" over and over.

"Could someone tell me how we got here?" Ann Possible, always the one to keep a level head and not be distracted, asked. While she was delighted to be present for her daughter's wholly unexpected but quite welcome marriage to Ron, she wanted answers.

"Long story, Mom," Kim said, giving Ann a buss on the cheek. "Welcome to my life."

Picard grabbed Q by the arm. "I hope you have had your fun. They deserve better than this."

Q looked at Picard and sighed. "You're right, Jean-Luc. You make a lousy cleric." With a flash he restored Picard's uniform. "Okay, carry on."

"Merde," Picard swore under his breath before taking a deep breath. He then cleared his throat and resumed the wedding ceremony.

"Do you, Kimberly Ann Possible, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, through sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

"I do," she said.

"And do you, Ronald Stoppable, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to cherish, through sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

"I do," he replied.

"Here," Q said, as he placed something in Ron's hand.

As Ron looked at his palm, his eyes grew wide.

"Where did you get these?" he asked.

"Don't be dense, Stoppable. I'm omnipotent. Consider it an extra tip for the badical snackage, as you call it."

"Uh, thanks," Ron said, before turning to a curious Kim. He placed one of the gold wedding bands Q had provided in her palm. She looked at the small circle of precious metal, then at Ron. He shrugged, then grinned, which earned him a smile. Then, each placed the band they held on the other's ring finger.

"By the power invested in me," Picard declared, "by the United Federation of Planets and by the custom of the sea and stars, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Ron gently placed his fingertips on Kim's scarred cheek as he pulled her in for a kiss. As they began engaging in what could only be described as warp-powered lip smacking, the assembled party began to clap with enthusiasm.

Picard beamed and then announced, "May I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Stoppable!"

The clapping, already vigorous, grew in intensity, and was joined by raucous cheering.

Ron wrapped his arms around Kim's waist and held her close to him. She brought her arms around his neck, then rested her head on his shoulder. She sighed contentedly, then pulled back, looked into his one good eye, and brushed her lips against his ravaged face.

And though the nature of their relationship had evolved with breakneck speed over the course of nine very full days, moving from friendship to romance to marriage, one thing remained unchanged: when Kim and Ron whispered "I love you" at the same moment, it was Kim who quietly called "Jinx!" first, earning herself a soda.

XIII.

There weren't 900 of them, but there were quite a few, all wearing black and red form-fitting suits. They had black patches where there mouths should have been and what appeared to be green goggles where their eyes should have been. Each was large, hulking, even. Together, they made for an impressive sight.

"Behold, my army of doom!" Drakken proclaimed with a grand flourish. "With these synthodrones and our friends from Starfleet, we will be able to overwhelm Enterprise and conquer the galaxy! Bwahahahahahahaha!"

"He always like this?" Lore asked.

"Yeah, comes with the territory. Rant, laugh maniacally, yadda yadda," Shego said, making clear she'd seen this particular act many times before. "Then he fails. Though, to give him credit, this time he actually seems to have some idea of what he's doing."

"Oh, I know what I'm doing, Shego," Drakken said as he spun to face her. "With the Federation shuttle, Lore and Lieutenants Carter and Du will be able to gain easy access to _Enterprise_. You, Eric, and I meanwhile, will follow along in _Drak Force One_ with the synthodrones. After Lore has gained control of the starship, we'll be able to land the troops and begin our march to total galactic domination. Bwahahah—"

"And just how exactly do you expect us to gain control of the ship?" Lore asked.

"Please, Lore," Drakken replied condescendingly. "You have the most advanced positronic net in the universe, a doppelganger on board _Enterprise_, and two Starfleet officers who between them must be able to gain access to every system on the ship."

"You don't have a plan and you want us to improvise?" Lore sneered.

"Must I do everything? I give you the tools, you finish the job!"

"Great, he's quoting Churchill at me" the android muttered. "Okay," Lore said aloud. "Just make sure Tweedledee and Tweedledum are ready to take orders from me."

"Of course. Lieutenants Du and Carter, be good zombies and listen to your Uncle Lore. He's going to need your help in laying a whole heap of freak on your crewmates!"

"Yes, Dr. Drakken," the two officers replied in identical monotones.

XIV.

Yori watched as Kim and Ron kissed again. Then she thought of what Fiske had asked her and she was pained. While the ambassador had not asked her to choose between her friends and the Federation, she knew, were she faced with such a situation, what she would do without hesitation. She could do no other, given her years of Yamanuchi and Starfleet training. For while the young officer had come to think of Kim as her friend, and had been attracted to Ron, it was clear to her that the needs of the Federation and its half trillion citizens outweighed the needs of any one or two individuals. That, after all, was the path of honor …

_TBC …_


	20. Chapter 20

My thanks to Commander Argus, campy, Whisper from the Shadows, RealityBreakGirl, spec-tre666, calamite, IncrediRaider8, Nightwing 509, AtomicFire, daywalkr82, Josh84, mkusenagi2, Supreme Admiral of the Web, whitem, JPMod, Ezbok58a, MichaelCross, FAH3, CajunBear73, conan98002, Taechunsa, Trapper44, Uru Baen, mattb3671, Zaratan, kemiztri, Visigoth29527, Molloy, and surforst for reading and reviewing.

Special thanks to campy for his beta and proofing work. As a token of my gratitude, I will not be sending Lwaxana Troi to visit …

If you saw it on KP, it belongs to Disney; if you saw it on TNG, it belongs to Paramount.

**Recommendations: **Check out _Eurotrip_ by Zaratan and johnrie18, writing as GWA. Good old-fashioned K/R fluff and adventure with a liberal dose of humor and villains. What more could you ask for? And, while I'm touting the GWA, the newest member, Commander Argus, has just posted the latest chapter of _The Darkness Within_. Get a cup of joe and have at it!

* * *

I. 

"Excuse me."

Q turned to find himself facing Barbara Jo Stoppable. "Yes?"

"You were Ron's best man," she stated flatly.

"And it was an honor indeed. Your son is the only man in the galaxy who can properly prepare –"

Q, and everyone else on the bridge, was stunned when Ron's mother slapped the omnipotent being across the face.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he yelped.

"You're his best man. That supposedly means you're his friend. What kind of friend lets someone get into the kind of trouble Ronnie obviously found himself in?" she demanded. Much to Q's surprise, Mrs. Stoppable actually grabbed his face and turned it towards Ron. "Look at my boy! Look at what's happened to him!"

"While I'll admit he's no longer in factory-fresh condition, he seems to have done well for himself, if you ask me …"

Q felt as if Mrs. Stoppable's angry gaze was about to bore through his head.

"… Well," he said defensively, "he does know the President of the Federation and he's on a first-name basis with the leader of the Klingon Empire, not to mention he just got married to a very attractive female, though I'll confess she's not my type …"

While Kim and Ron were deriving great satisfaction from Q's discomfort, they both began to fear his patience might be tested beyond endurance and that Mrs. Stoppable would find herself turned into a Rigelian tree monkey or deposited on some uncharted world in the Delta Quadrant. Hoping to forestall any such unwanted development, Ron gently placed a hand on his mother's shoulder.

"Mom, it's okay," he said. "You can let Q go."

"But Ronnie …"

"Mom, it's not his fault. I was on a mission …"

"You? Really? Kim's father said something about that when he called a half hour ago to tell us you were getting married, and a call from you yourself about that would have been nice, young man, but that's not the point at the moment … Ronnie, you're just a chef!"

"He is not just a chef, Mrs. Stoppable. He is a resourceful and enterprising young man," Picard said, before introducing himself. He then continued, "Your son procured critical information vital to the security of the Federation, in addition to saving Ensign Possible's life. You should be very proud of him."

"I'm sorry I didn't get to tell you, Mom," Ron said, "but things have been happening kind of fast here."

"That's pretty obvious," she said, cocking her eyebrow, as she looked at her new daughter-in-law. Ron's mother was actually quite pleased that the two long-time best friends had decided to marry. Barbara Jo knew long ago that it was Kim and Kim alone who was able to get Ron to apply himself. It was Kim, after all, who had given Ron the motivation to enroll at the Culinary Institute and become a chef. And while she now blamed Kim for Ron's disfigurement, she was impressed that Kim was prepared to spend the rest of her life with her one-eyed, savagely scarred son. Suddenly, a thought popped into Mrs. Stoppable's head, presenting a potentialexplanation for why Kim might have been willing to tie the knot. "She's not, you know …"

Ron was confused.

Kim, overhearing the conversation, began to turn red.

Data, with his acute hearing, also heard Mrs. Stoppable's question and, deducing what she was implying, was intrigued. "I, too, would like to know, Kim: are you carrying Ron's child? That would be most wonderful news indeed."

"Data!" Troi exclaimed.

Seeing any number of eyes settled on her, Kim turned a deeper shade of red. "No, Data. I'm not going to have a baby."

"Well, perhaps we should give you two a little time alone so you can get to work on rectifying that," Q suggested. "The galaxy can always use more competent risotto chefs, after all." He began to raise his hand but Picard intercepted Q, grabbing his wrist.

"Q," the captain hissed, "I think you've done enough already, thank you very much. Perhaps you can return the Possibles and the Stoppables to Mars and then be on your way."

Q frowned and sighed. "If you insist, _mon capitan_."

Picard nodded. "I do." Turning to Kim and Ron's parents he said, "I am so sorry that we have to cut this short, but …"

"It's time to go!" Q announced. Then, turning to Kim and Ron, he said, "Congratulations, love birds! Remember to make the most of your wedding night! And don't forget to name the first Stoppable after its Uncle Q!"

The omnipotent being snapped his fingers, filling the bridge with a blinding white light. After the illumination faded, Kim and Ron noticed that their parents and Kim's siblings were gone. Their friends' clothing had been restored, as had their own. All was as it had been prior to Q's arrival – save that the wedding bands he provided remained on their ring fingers.

II.

Picard had given Kim and Ron one hour to enjoy themselves before Kim had to return to duty. After the newlyweds left the bridge, Picard turned to the task of informing Nechayev of the fait accompli.

"Captain," she said icily, "You never cease to amaze me."

"Admiral, this is all in compliance with Starfleet regulations. As you well know –"

"Don't begin quoting regulations at me, Captain; I know them well enough. You win. For now. Mr. Stoppable can stay on board with his new bride. But in 120 days he's either gainfully employed on this ship, at which time I will order him to surrender the bat'leth, or he will be dropped off at the nearest planet, and if Ensign Possible still wants to be with him, she can resign her commission. Until then, I am holding you personally responsible for the security of the Sword of Kahless."

"Understood, Admiral."

"I'm not sure you do, Captain. I will no longer tolerate you subverting my authority. The next time you do, I will do my all to make sure you are promoted to rear admiral and put behind a desk at the most out-of-the-way Starbase I can find. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Admiral," Picard said, not wanting to contemplate such a dreadful, dreary fate.

III.

The ceremony over, Kim and Ron simply wanted to enjoy each other's company during the hour they had before Kim needed to report for duty.

"So, Mr. Stoppable, what do you want to do?"

"Follow me," he said with a goofy grin.

He led her to the holodeck, but wouldn't say what he had in mind for their visit. Deepening her curiosity, when they got there, he insisted that she cover her ears while he spoke some com-mands into the control panel.

Much to Kim's delight, the doors slid open to reveal the San Francisco to Tiburon ferry, already mid-transit.

"Ron, this is perfect!"

"Thanks, Kim. To be honest, the last few months, as I began to think about us, I began wondering what it would be like to hold hands on deck, so uh, I thought …" Ron admitted.

Kim smiled warmly. "We'd better go find out then," she said, taking Ron's hand and leading him out onto the boat.

A light breeze was blowing in across the great bay and the sunlight danced on the rippling water. The haze had lifted off the city and hills, revealing a beautiful late spring morning.

"I've missed our rides," Kim said, turning her face to the sun. Even if it was a computer-generated illusion, it still felt good.

"Me too. You know, I spent a lot of time on this boat after you left. It was never the same, but it was one of my favorite memories of our time together in 'Frisco. Gave me a way to pretend you were still back on Earth with me. Man, did I miss you."

"Me, too," Kim replied.

They leaned against the railing, their hips touching, riding in companionable silence.

Kim sighed, now holding Ron's hand in hers, gently stroking Ron's fingers. "Maybe someday we can get a place in San Francisco. Something with a spankin' view of the Bay. You'll have your own restaurant …"

"… and you'll be running Starfleet," Ron said. "Yeah. I can see it. Admiral Kim … Hmm. Uh, Kim, what do I call you?"

"Hmm?"

"You know, your name. What's it gonna be? If you want to be Kim Possible, I'll be cool with that. I just want to know what to call you."

Kim looked out over the water towards Alcatraz and Oakland.

"Kimberly Ann Stoppable," she declared.

"You sure?" he asked, unable to hide his surprise.

"Yes, I'm sure, Ron," Kim answered with a wry grin.

"That means a lot to me," he said, feeling a lump in his throat.

"There is one condition, though," she said firmly.

"Yeah?"

"You will not start calling me KS."

Ron turned, leaning on his elbow and looked at the face of his new bride. "I wouldn't think of it. You'll always be my KP."

"Glad to hear it … Mr. Possible," she said as she pulled Ron in for an embrace.

IV.

Though Ed Lipsky may have been consigned to the Klingon version of the Black Hole of Calcutta, depriving his cousin Drew of access to vital Starfleet information, Shego had connections of her own and soon learned the whereabouts and destination of _Enterprise_. The shuttlecraft, rechristened _Mama Lipsky_, and _Drak Force One_ headed directly towards the unsuspecting Federation flagship.

V.

"Mr. President, I assure you, operatives of the Romulan Star Empire did not break into the Vulcan Science Academy. We do not have your doomsday weapon," the haughty diplomat stated. "Indeed, I must tell you that we are greatly disturbed to learn that the Federation possesses such a device."

"Ambassador, don't change the subject," Barkin growled. "I've seen the holotapes. And, no offense, but your word isn't sufficient to convince me that I should cancel the fleet deployment. If your government is serious about de-escalating this crisis, they will agree to an inspection of all Romulan military assets."

"That is outrageous!"

"No," Barkin responded. "Stealing a weapon that could destroy a planet with one blast is outrageous."

The human and the Romulan stared at one another.

"I will relay your demands to my government," the diplomat said before leaving.

Barkin, sitting alone in his palatial office, felt very much alone. He was overwhelmed by a wave of nostalgia for the crowded halls of Middleton High School and its hundreds of students. Life had been much simpler then.

VI.

"Have you acquired the Sword yet?"

"No," Fiske answered irritably. "The Pretender was able to foil my plan." He then explained what had happened, only to be greeted by cutting laughter.

"So what do you plan to do now that you have been bested by a one-eyed boy?"

"He has not bested me!" he protested.

"So you say. Tell me, Fiske, what are you planning to do?"

"If you must know, I am not sure," he said, unable to conceal his annoyance. "But I will have the blade. It was I, not that buffoon, who was meant to wield the Sword of Kahless!"

"So you say. You seem awfully confident."

"It is my destiny!"

"I hope you are correct," Fiske's interlocutor said with a predatory smile. "We are counting on you."

Fiske ended the transmission. He contemplated what he would do next, what tools he had at his disposal. As he looked out the window at the stars, a malicious grin spread across his face. He would have what was rightfully his, and with it ultimate power. The prospect caused the ambas-sador to laugh, quietly at first. Before long, though, his laughter had taken on a distinctly maniacal quality. The crazed sound reverberated throughout his quarters for some time. Finally, it began to taper off.

Fiske, knowing he needed to center himself, decided to meditate.

VII.

Once Kim returned to the bridge for her shift, Ron and Rufus met up to make some homemade Tex-Mex in Ron's, or more precisely, Ron and Kim's quarters.

"You and Ensign Possible were meant to be mated," Rufus declared as he deftly chopped onions.

"Thanks, Dude," Ron replied as he went to work on the tomatoes. "I still can't believe that Kim and I are married," he confessed, a bit dazed.

"Do you have regrets?" Rufus asked.

Ron thought that the question was preposterous. "Regrets? 'Sha," he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. "It's incredible! Who'd have thought it? Kim Possible is Mrs. Ron Stoppable! It's the most badical thing that's ever happened to me or ever will. I just never expected it to happen this way. Heck, when I first got on board ship, I never expected it to happen at all." Ron proceeded to tell Rufus about his and Kim's lifelong friendship and whirlwind romance. "You know buddy, life's weird sometimes."

"Indeed, it is." Rufus, for one, never expected to meet anyone who shared his devotion to Bueno Nacho. "So, what will you do now?"

"Now? I don't know. We've got four months to figure something out. I just know I can't give up that stupid bat'leth and I can't let KP quit Starfleet. So I guess I'll just have to try to change Admiral Ice Cube's mind so I can stay on board with Kim."

Rufus could see that Ron was troubled, deeply disturbed by the prospect of being separated from his mate. He knew that under the circumstances there was only one thing to do. He reached into a satchel he had brought and then offered something to Ron.

It was a fresh-baked cookie.

VIII.

Lord Montgomery Fiske had sat cross-legged on the floor of his VIP quarters for the better part of an hour, his arms extended from his sides, his eyes closed. The lights had been dimmed, candles and incense burned. He held perfectly still, exercising control of his body and fevered mind.

More than two decades had passed since he had first learned the technique on the Klingon homeworld. He had been a young diplomat, eager to learn more about this great culture that he had studied at Oxford. Earlier, during his teen years at Eton, he had first traveled to _Qo'noS_; he fell in love with the culture, the architecture, the society, indeed, with all things Klingon. From that moment on he dedicated himself to studying the great civilization that over the past few centuries had played such a prominent role in human affairs. Fiske spent a year of his university career studying on _Qo'noS_. Then, after receiving his degree, he did additional academic work there. Fiske was independently wealthy and so was able to devote himself to his passion.

But in addition to knowledge, Fiske also revered status. And in the society in which he lived, his title, though ancient, meant nothing. So he needed to earn his position. He knew he didn't have the temperament for Starfleet nor the common touch necessary for politics. So he chose diplomacy. It was a wise, indeed brilliant, choice for the English nobleman.

He quickly rose through the ranks, excelling in his postings in Federation consulates on minor worlds. Soon, he was assigned to the Klingon Desk, working in Paris where he produced studies and analysis of the Federation's neighbor. Then he received the posting he had yearned for: second deputy chief of mission on _Qo'noS_. It was a plum assignment for a junior diplomat.

Fiske took to his work with gusto. He quickly insinuated himself into the upper echelons of Klingon society. At first dismissed as effete, he quickly convinced his hosts otherwise as he demonstrated a mastery of multiple forms of martial arts – and swordplay, which he used as a spring-board to learning the art of wielding a bat'leth.

It was during that tour that he learned of the legend of the Sword of Kahless. The prospect of possessing such a weapon first intrigued, then consumed him. Control of the bat'leth would give him tremendous influence in Klingon society, which would mean great power. And power attracted Lord Fiske.

He always believed that he was entitled to exercise power; his breeding, his education, his intellect all said it was his right. But the egalitarian, meritocratic age to which he belonged demurred. The Sword would help him rectify that misconception.

Yet to truly exploit the power of the Sword (should he ever discover its whereabouts), Fiske would need an ally among the great Houses of the Klingons. And part way through his tour, the young diplomat found one.

They met at a diplomatic reception.

He would always remember that night …

_Montgomery Fiske, blood wine in hand, peered across the hall at the young woman; she was wearing traditional Klingon clothing: a long dress with padded shoulders, warrior's boots, and a top that afforded a generous view of décolletage._

_There was something both alluring and repulsive about her, something elegant yet barbarous, refined yet rapacious. Later he learned that she felt the same way about Fiske, that she, like him, was of noble blood, that her House was not afforded its due in Klingon affairs, that she believed her people should have been at the helm of the Empire. But that all was to come later._

_Fiske made his way across the floor to her and introduced himself with a bow._

_"Lord Montgomery Fiske, at your service, M'lady."_

_The Klingon female bared her teeth. "What kind of services do you provide, human?"_

_Fiske straightened up and threw back his shoulders. He was not accustomed to such imperti-nence. Yet when he looked at her features, at her eyes and her hair, he found himself feeling not offense, but attraction. "Many kinds. Many kinds indeed."_

_She grabbed his wrist and held his hand up for inspection._

_"Your hand. It is large."_

_"Yes."_

_"I have heard stories that large hands on a human male are indicative of other large things …"_

_Without missing a beat, Fiske replied, "Traditionally, feet are the benchmark by which such things are measured. And while I cannot vouch for others of my species, it is in my case true."_

_"Perhaps I should be the judge of that."_

_"Your perspective on the matter could be most – enlightening."_

_She threw back her head and laughed. "Enlightenment? Who seeks enlightenment? I desire … satisfaction."_

_A smile spread across Fiske's face. "I believe I can provide that."_

_"Yes, I'm sure you do. But again, perhaps I should be the judge of that." Still holding his hand, the Klingon noblewoman began to lead Fiske from the hall._

_"Tell me," he said. "What is your name?"_

_She stopped and looked at her conquest. "I am Lursa. Of the House of Duras."_

IX.

"Ensign Stoppable, how long until we rendezvous with the Orionisi?"

"At our current speed, six and a half minutes, Captain."

"Very good," Picard said. "Number One, Ensign, I believe we should head to the transporter room to await the arrival of our guests. Mr. Data, you have the bridge."

"Aye, sir," the three officers replied as Riker and Kim rose to follow Picard to the turbolift and Data moved to the Captain's Chair.

As the doors slid closed behind the trio, Picard ordered the lift to take them to Transporter Room Four.

Riker looked at the older man, whose jaw was clenched. It was hard to believe that just a short while earlier he was grinning like a father as he presided over Kim and Ron's marriage. Now he looked like a man who only knew bitterness.

"You okay, sir?"

Picard arched an eyebrow. He and Riker had served together long enough and developed a strong enough bond that he felt comfortable in confiding in his executive officer and he trusted Kim to hold in confidence what he was about to say.

"No, I am not, Number One," he said. "In all the years I have been engaged in diplomacy, no set of negotiations has made me as uncomfortable as those we are about to host. I do not trust the Orionisi. They are not only pirates, they are slavers, totally without honor or scruple. Given the opportunity, they would kidnap Ensign Stoppable to sell her on the slave market, then ask us for concessions."

"I guess it's a good thing Dr. Crusher hasn't taken care of my scar …" she said, touching her cheek – and offering a sly grin.

Picard allowed himself a small smile. "Indeed, Ensign. It would reduce your market value …"

"… and they'd have to deal with Ron and the Sword of Kahless," Riker added.

Kim smiled, knowing Riker was right. Ron was good for his word when he promised that he would always have her back.

"True, Number One, true," Picard agreed before continuing. "And if the Orionisi were like Mr. Stoppable, I would not be ill at ease; I fully understand the desire to protect our flank against the Cardassians. However, I fear that what we are doing is no different than the Romans hiring the Goths to protect them from the other barbarians. No good can come of this."

X.

"Aiieee!" Ron cried out. "What are you guys doing?"

His two former assistants looked at him sheepishly. They'd been trying to prepare the banquet for the Orionisi, who were an outsizedrace with outsized appetites. They were a people who liked to enjoy their food and drink and so were very particular about what they ate and how it was prepared. Unfortunately for Ron's former colleagues, Orionisi cuisine was notoriously difficult to master.

Ron slapped his comm badge. "Stoppable to Stoppable."

"Stoppable here," Kim replied.

"Kim, we've got a problem here in the galley. I came to get some fixin's for the salsa that Rufus and I were making and …"

"Ron, I really don't have time for this," she said curtly. She was sure Ron had to know the delegation was about to arrive and that she didn't have time to chat.

"… KP, listen, okay," he said, suppressing his exasperation; he remembered how Kim used to use that tone with him back when they were teens. "My boys down here aren't quite up to speed on Orionisi cuisine."

Kim could tell from the tenor of her new husband's voice that he was concerned. "How not up to speed, Ron?"

"It looks like you've been down here."

"Oy," Kim said, brushing aside any offense she might have taken at Ron's comment as she recognized just how dire a sitch they were in.

Picard, seeking illumination, looked quizzically at Kim.

"I'm a ferociously bad cook, Captain," she explained.

"I see," he said. "Mr. Stoppable …"

"Captain?" Ron said, caught by surprise.

"… What do you recommend?" Picard asked.

"Sir, if you can delay sit-down by 45 minutes I should be able to whip something up."

"That would be most appreciated," Picard said.

"Hey, as my wife likes to say, it's no big …"

Kim blushed; that was the first time Ron had called her his wife since the ceremony and while it sounded very odd, she found that she very much liked the way it sounded.

"… Just remember, if the admiral asks, I'm just a volunteer doing a friend a favor. I wouldn't want her to get the wrong idea and think I was back on the payroll."

"Understood, Ron," the captain said.

"Ron?" Kim said, momentarily forgetting herself.

"Yeah, KP?" he asked.

"You rock," she said with pride.

"Hey, I try," he replied. "Rondo out."

Picard, eyebrow arched, looked at Kim, who reddened. The captain then smiled. "You are of course quite right, Ensign. 'Rondo' does indeed 'rock.'"

XI.

Nechayev, Fiske, and Bonnie were already waiting in the transporter room, where Miles O'Brien was manning the console.

The captain, after arriving, pressed his comm badge. "Bridge, this is Picard. Are our visitors ready to beam over?"

"Aye, sir," Data replied. "The Orionisi delegation is ready to transport at our signal."

"Make it so," Picard said.

Shimmering gold light and a high-pitched whine filled the landing pad before six green-skinned figures materialized.

There were five large males, all at least as tall as Riker, all hulking, all bald. They oozed menace. But their presence paled in comparison to that of the sixth member of the party.

She was Picard's height. Her black hair was full and long, cascading about her shoulders, bringing a vision of Shego to Kim's mind. The woman wore revealing clothing, exotic make-up and garish jewelry that served only to enhance her aura of dangerous sexuality. The Orionisi female radiated power and hauteur and knew it; none of the Federation party needed to be told that she was in charge of the delegation.

The women of Orion, by choice, rarely ventured out of their star system; when they did, it was because something was believed to be of paramount importance. Instead, they preferred to run the Syndicate from the comfort of home, allowing males to risk the dangers of piracy and space-flight, while they stayed behind and enjoyed the benefits of their galaxy-spanning organization. They ruthlessly exercised ultimate control of their violent, predatory society by using their brains – and other tools – to control the males of their and other species. Even without the benefit of their famous pheromones, the women of Orion were among the most cunningly intelligent beings in the galaxy. That they were also totally amoral made them especially dangerous.

"Ambassador Rayna, welcome aboard _Enterprise_. I am Jean-Luc Picard."

The woman, moving with the grace of a panther, descended from the platform and stared Picard in the eye. A wry expression formed on her face. "It would appear that you've developed a way to resist my charms, Captain."

Picard smiled. "I hope you understand, Ambassador. I cannot afford to have my crew distracted from their assigned duties." Federation doctors had developed an airborne method for most males to resist the effects of the pheromones of Orionisi females (for reasons yet unknown, the treatment didn't work on Orionisi males); Dr. Crusher had already distributed the agent into the environmental control system.

"A shame," the ambassador said, as she turned and leered at Riker, who actually appeared un-comfortable.

Kim was momentarily bemused by the prospect of the First Officer, who had a reputation for be-ing a player, being eyed for a tryst, before she realized this woman's idea of a one-night stand probably ended with her bedmate being put on the auction block.

The woman then gave O'Brien and Fiske the once over. Then she turned her gaze on the three Federation females, evaluating them the way a fighter would an opponent. She first settled her gaze on Nechayev. "So you are the leader. And you keep these males in line without the use of pheromones?"

The admiral was both appalled and intrigued by the visitor. "I have earned my authority," she said coolly. "That's how we do things in my society."

"Yes, so I've heard," Rayna said. "Still, it amazes me that you deny yourself such a powerful tool."

The green-hued woman turned to Bonnie. "You, however, would have no qualms about using your sexuality to achieve your goals …"

"I –" Bonnie began to stammer, nonplussed by the visitor's blunt, and accurate, assessment.

"… Do not deny it. You are a beautiful, desirable female. There is no reason you should deny yourself use of one of your most valuable tools. You know, I suspect you could make an excellent Orionisi," Rayna said with a wicked smile.

Then she turned to Kim.

"You interest me," the woman said. "Who are you?"

Kim stood at attention. "Ensign Kimberly Ann Stoppable. Aide de Camp to Captain Picard. Ma'am."

"You are a warrior woman. Fascinating," Rayna said before she stared at Kim's cheek. "The scar, does it not detract from your attractiveness to males?"

Kim looked the woman in the eye. Knowing from the briefing materials she had read that the Orionisi would value directness from other females she replied, "My husband seems to like it just fine."

"So you are mated. Very good. I hope you keep him in his place."

"Our marriage is based on love and mutual respect, not one of us keeping the other in place, ma'am. We each bring something to the relationship, we complete each other."

Rayna held Kim's gaze. "Interesting. If he completes you, that makes you weak, since without him you are not whole."

"I beg to differ, ma'am. Ron enables me fulfill my potential as I do him his. We are each strong because of the other. Alone, we are two weak people, together we are two strong people."

Rayna chuckled. "You humans have bizarre, if fascinating, ideas about relations between the sexes. Well, since I am aboard a human vessel …" Rayna, seeing the looks on her hosts' faces, laughed heartily. "Please, Captain, spare me the charade of the Federation. Everyone of your party is a human. You may allow Vulcans and others to sit at your council tables, but we in the Syndicate know that the Federation is in reality a human empire. You are no different than the Klingons or Romulans."

"Ambassador, I must beg to differ," Picard protested.

"Really?" she asked with a playful smile. "Answer me this, then: if you're so different, why are you talking with us?"

XII.

They had gathered around the conference table in the Observation Lounge, Picard yielding his customary seat at the head of the table to Fiske, the senior Federation representative. Rayna sat at the opposite end. The Orionisi sat facing the giant windows; they had made clear that they felt safer that way. Kim found herself wondering who the visitors thought would ambush them; they were on the bridge of the Federation flagship, after all. _Paranoid much?_ she thought when they filed into the room. _Though I have to admit watching your back is a good policy when you're a pirate._

Fiske was conducting the meeting with skill and aplomb. Though Kim shared her captain's unease over dealing with the Syndicate, especially on a matter of security, she had to credit the ambassador with the way he negotiated. Watching Fiske and Rayna at work was like watching a complicated minuet, each dancer knowing his or her part perfectly. Even if her preference was to be direct and take charge, she knew that there was a purpose to the diplomatic dance. She suppressed a smile as she thought of how Mr. Barkin, now President Barkin, would feel about par-ticipating in such highly choreographed negotiations.

The talks had been going on for some time; soon it would be time for dinner. Kim awaited word from Ron, who was to call her in her capacity as ADC to report when dinner was to be served. She thought of him and how he was at work in the galley, preparing a meal for those present in this room. She wondered what he was going to serve. _This is a ferociously strange way to be spending our wedding night_, she mused. _It's the first day of the rest of our lives. I hope all the ones to come aren't so weird!  
_  
The light began flashing on Kim's padd. That was Ron's signal. "Excuse me, sir," she said to Picard, "dinner is ready to be served."

"Thank you, Ensign. Ambassador," he said to their guest as he rose, "would you allow me to escort you to Ten Forward?"

"I would like that very much, Captain. Negotiations make me very hungry. And I have an insatiable appetite."

XIII.

"Oy."

Shego scowled as she looked at the data being transmitted to her from the Mama Lipsky.

"What's wrong, Shego?" Drakken asked.

"_Enterprise_ has some visitors."

"What do you mean?"

"Du-boy just detected three Orionisi marauders holding station off the port bow."

"Shego, you don't mean to tell me that your pirate friends are attacking my ship?" he whined. "I so wanted a _Galaxy_-class starship of my own!"

"Chill, Doc," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Even the Syndicate isn't that brazen. No, something funny's going on."

Shego then hit the comm link between the two craft. "Yo, Lore."

"Hi, Hot Stuff!" he said cheerily.

"Don't call me that!" she growled. She'd only known him for a few days, but the malevolent android was quickly getting on her nerves. Attraction was leavened with growing annoyance; she was learning that familiarity really could breed contempt.

"Whatever you say … Hot Stuff."

"ARRRGGGHHHH!"

"I love it when you do that," he said. "So, what's up?"

"The marauders," she snarled. "Can Du or Carter figure out what's going on?"

Lore turned to the two mind-controlled Starfleet officers. "Well, boys? How about it?"

Du and Carter turned to their consoles and began typing away.

It was only a few minutes before Du was able to report. "It would appear that a conference is taking place between the Federation and the Syndicate."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Shego said. "Did I hear you right? You're telling me that the boy scouts and the pirates are having a little pow-wow?"

"It would appear so," Du replied.

"So, the mighty Federation is so scared that they're negotiating with criminals," Lore said. "And the party hasn't even started yet!"

"And it won't get started unless we vamoose," Shego snapped. "Those marauders see us and we're toast."

"But I thought you were on friendly terms with the Orionisi, Shego?" Drakken asked.

"Doc, we're only buds as long as our interests converge. We mess up their little visit with the Federation and they will not be happy."

"So what do you recommend, Shego?" Lore said.

"Pull back, keep an eye on things. After the Orionisi leave, we make our move."

XIV.

They were seated at one large table. While Ron was not present, Kim could see the evidence of his handiwork all around her. She marveled at how quickly he had transformed Ten Forward into an elegant private dining room. She was impressed by the poise of the crewmen who served their food. She knew they had been trained to do this long before Ron's arrival, but something told her that he'd gotten them to step up their game.

"That was a truly exceptional meal, Captain," Rayna said. "I would like to meet the chef."

Picard would have preferred to keep Ron out of sight; Nechayev had been less than pleased when he had explained the situation involving him to her. However, he knew that some discomfort on his part, and possibly Ron's and Kim's, was the price to be paid if the evening was to continue successfully.

He pressed his comm badge. "Mr. Stoppable, this is the Captain."

"Yes, sir," he replied professionally.

"Our guests would like to meet the man who prepared their dinner. Would you be so kind as to come by Ten Forward?"

"On my way, sir. Stoppable out."

Moments later, the doors to Ten Forward slid open, and Ron, in his cooking gear, strode into the room. He momentarily locked eyes with Kim, appreciating her in her uniform; she in turn felt her heart flutter. For some reason, seeing him in the white smock and checked pants excited her.

"Ambassador Rayna," Picard said, "allow me to introduce Mr. Ron Stoppable."

"Ma'am," he said with a slight dip of the head.

"A pleasure to meet you," she said rising from her seat. She looked at Ron, then appraised him as she walked around him in a circle.

Kim felt distinctly uneasy as she watched.

"You and the ensign share the same name," Rayna said. "I will assume you are her husband, and not her brother."

"Uh, yeah," Ron said nervously. He felt like he was being looked over as if he were a piece of meat for sale at the local butcher's.

"You are an excellent cook. Your mastery of our food is most impressive. What other cuisine can you prepare?"

"A bunch of earth styles, classical Vulcan, some Klingon, Ferengi – I'd avoid that if I were you – Andorian, Orionisi. And I've messed around with some other kinds."

Rayna turned to Kim. "You are fortunate."

"Yes, I am," Kim replied.

"How much do you want for him?"

"Come again?" Kim asked.

"I'd like him. I will buy your marriage contract from you."

"Uh, KP …" Ron said nervously.

Kim, ignoring everyone else in the room, rose from her chair, moved to Ron, and took his arm. "He's not for sale!" she growled.

"I could make you rich beyond your wildest dreams."

"What part of 'no' do you not get? Ron's my husband, not something you can buy."

"Ensign, you are young," Rayna said wearily. "Anything, anyone can be bought."

"That is enough, Ambassador," Nechayev said. "Slave trading may be permissible in Syndicate territory, but is not tolerated in Federation space."

"I apologize," Rayna said, still looking at Ron acquisitively. "Tell me, Admiral, am I right in saying your fundamental law forbids commerce in sentient beings?"

"Yes. The guarantee of individual freedom and liberty is a bedrock principle of the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets."

"I see. And does that same document not guarantee all citizens a trial by jury of one's peers?"

"Yes."

"Then how do you explain the Federation's rendition of troublesome individuals to Rura Penthe?"

"Ambassador, I don't know what –"

"… I'm talking about. Yes. Of course. But you know as well as I that you've been sending undesirables to be handled by the Klingons and their rougher judicial system for at least three decades …"

Silence filled the room.

"… Principles are fine. But sometimes there is room for expediency. Knowing you have enough enemies already, you wish peace with the Syndicate. What if I told you that part of the price of our concluding the non-aggression pact with Federation was Mr. Stoppable? Would you still say no? Or would you find a way to deliver him to me? Which would be more important – this one man's freedom? Or the security of your empire?"

_TBC …  
_


	21. Chapter 21

Thanks to whitem, Nightwing 509, Whisper from the Shadows, AtomicFire, mkusenagi2, campy, Commander Argus, Zeerak, Classic Cowboy, JPMod, crashfourit, spectre666, Matri, RealityBreakGirl, Wanderer3, Ezbok58a, conan98002, MichaelCross, TransWarpDrive, daywalkr82, US.Steel, Taechunsa, Star-Eva01, Zaratan, The Mad shoe 1, Josh84, Disco Jesus, Uru Baen, Texas Dad, Molloy, surforst, Wind Falcon, Yuri Sisteble, momike, Slyfer, Darkcloud1, and jasminevr for reviewing and to everyone for reading.

Thanks to campy for his beta and proof work.

Write a review, get a response. Seriously.

Check out Molloy's _Until the End of the World_. The first chapter of what promises to be an epic, literate tale with action, adventure, romance, and at least one mention of zebras is up and waiting to be read by you.

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney.

* * *

I. 

Kim was disoriented.

She had been in Ten Forward, where she had been holding Ron's arm and had rejected Rayna's offensive and bizarre offer to buy him before witnessing the surreal verbal jousting over principle and expediency between the Orionisi ambassador and Admiral Nechayev.

But now she found herself standing on a dirt road in front of an old-style Earth gas station. A rather bored-looking man sat in a rocker gazing into the distance while a woman, wearing a long crinoline dress and a straw boater, looked at a bulletin board; she was the very picture of ennui. Kim was feeling very conspicuous in her Starfleet duty uniform.

"Excuse me," she said to the man in the rocker. "Where am I?"

He stared silently at Kim.

After a few moments, the woman turned and looked at Kim. "Would you like me to tell you where you are?"

"Please and thank you," she said.

"You're here."

"Uh, thanks," Kim replied. "Could you be any more specific?"

"You're _right_ here. You're _not_ there."

_Spankin'_, Kim thought.

"Don't mind them, they're not used to visitors."

Kim spun around. "Q!"

"In the flesh!" he said, his arms spread wide.

"Where am I? Who are they? What's going on here?"

"Kimberly Ann, you really are quite the explorer. Plunked down in the middle of nowhere and you're still filled with curiosity and a lust for knowledge. It's quite inspiring, really …"

Kim stood with her hands on her hips and glared at Q.

"… Okay, okay. You're in the Continuum, the one on the left is Q and the one on the right is Q, and you and I are here to continue your education."

"The Continuum … The Q Continuum?" she asked.

"The one and only! Accept no imitations," the omnipotent being replied. "So, what do you think? Exciting, isn't it?"

"Actually, it seems kind of …"

"Dull? Like that Friday night back in high school when you assumed Stoppable would be available to do whatever you wanted, but you learned that he had actually had the gall to make plans with his _compadre_ Felix, and none of your other little friends, not even your incredibly weird Cousin Larry, could come out and play and you just had the most dreadfully boring Friday night ever?"

Kim's jaw clenched. She stared at Q through narrowed eyes. She didn't like being mocked by Q. Especially when everything he said was true; for reasons she couldn't explain, the memory of that evening still rankled her. Finally, she snarled, "Yes." After a pause she added, "No, this is even worse. And that's saying a lot."

Q clapped an arm on her shoulder. "For a human, you really are a perceptive one." He then looked around and added _sotto voce_, "Now you know why I like to spend so much time hanging around with Jean-Luc and poking around your universe. This place is terminally boring."

"Q," Kim said impatiently, "I still don't know what your sitch is, but I really don't have time for this right now …"

"Yes, yes, I know. Stoppable's about to take a one-way trip to slavery," Q said dismissively. "Worse things could happen to him, you know."

Kim stared at Q goggle-eyed. "Worse than slavery? You are so not serious!"

"He could have dated that Rockwaller woman. She'd have eaten him alive. Or your old roommate, Yori. Sure, she seems all sweet and innocent on the outside, but deep down inside – she's one tough customer."

"Q," Kim growled.

"Okay, calm down, Miss I-don't-have-a-sense-of-humor. You're missing nothing."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "They were talking about Ron!"

"We're in the Continuum. Beyond the bounds of space and time. There is no time here. See?" he said, pointing to an outdoor clock that had no hands. "While you're here, you, too, are timeless. You've stopped aging. Neat, huh? Anyway, when you go back to _Enterprise_, no one will know you were ever gone. So humor me."

"Why?" she challenged him. "I really have more important things to worry about right now."

"Because," Q replied, his voice now devoid of all warmth or humor, "Your and Ron's lives, not to mention those of the nine billion people on Earth, depend upon it."

II.

Ambassador Lord Montgomery Fiske listened to the exchange between Nechayev and Rayna with mounting excitement, though one would not have known that from his expression. To all around the table, he was the very epitome of the phlegmatic Englishman who could blithely contend with any and all situations, regardless of their patent absurdity or potential for epic disaster. But beneath the composed diplomat's placid façade, Fiske was doing a mental jig. Rayna, the green-hued temptress, the overlord of criminals, was presenting him with the path to galactic domination that he had long sought. He was not prepared to speak, still wanting to see how the heated conversation between the ambassador and the admiral would conclude, but he was now sure that he could soon be rid of Ron Stoppable and in possession of the Blade of Kahless.

III.

"The most important thing in my life is that Ron and I love each other," Q said to Kim in her own voice. "Do you remember saying that?" he asked.

"Yes, I do," Kim said. "That's why I married him. You were there. Remember?" she retorted sharply.

"Mmm. Yes. I do. You know, you may have set a record. You dated, what, a week?"

"So not the point, Q. You're omniscient. You know that Ron and I have both loved each other for a lot longer than a few days. In fact, you knew how we felt long before we did. You probably knew we were meant to get married before we were born."

"Touché, Kimberly Ann," Q said with a slight nod of the head. "But I still wonder if you really know what true love is and what kind of sacrifices it might require. Sure, you married the ugly …"

"Watch it," Kim growled.

Q held up his hands. "Okay, okay. Beauty's in the eye of the beholder," he said. "But tell me, back to sacrifices. Are you willing to give up that uniform?"

"Yes."

"Your freedom?"

"Yes."

"Your very life?"

"Yes, Q, I am," Kim said impatiently.

"Good," the omnipotent being said. He paused, then continued, "Because you may have to."

Kim and Q, facing one another, stood quietly.

"You look troubled," Q said. "Doubting what you just said?"

"No," she replied with conviction. She turned from the omnipotent being and looked down the seemingly endless road. "I just don't want to die. I only want to grow old with Ron. I know you're omniscient and all-powerful, Q, but do you have a best friend, a real best friend? And I'm not talking about you and the captain …"

"I beg to differ," Q said indignantly. "Jean-Luc is my best friend in the universe!"

"Then why'd you introduce him to the Borg?"

"So you'd have a fighting chance when they arrived. How do you think you would have done if they'd just shown up unannounced?"

"What about the whole trial sitch at Farpoint Station? I've been briefed on that."

"If some of my fellow Q had their way, there would have been no trial. Just a summary judgment, and then you and I would not be here because you and all of your kind would have been wiped from existence," Q said testily. "Instead, Jean-Luc and I bonded, and your troublesome species was given another lease on life."

Kim looked at Q and, despite herself, found herself smiling. "This is so whack. You really think you're the captain's friend."

"I know it," Q said imperiously.

"Then imagine that you and the captain had known each other your entire lives, that you'd laughed and cried and joked together and hurt and helped one another, that you'd shared good times and dangerous ones, that you'd actually bared your souls to each other. Then imagine you gave your hearts to each other. That's what it means for Ron and me to be best friends." As Kim spoke, her eyes began to tear up. "On top of that, and don't ask me why, because it just is, Ron and I have a deep physical attraction to each other that's part lust, but also something deeper. It doesn't matter if we're both scarred or he's got big ears or I have a small bust, we want each other. We're best friends who were lucky enough to find out we were in love. You've twice asked me if I know what true love is. Believe me, Q, I do. I know Ron would do anything for me. And I hope he knows I'd do the same for him, because I would. Because I love him. Do you understand? I _love _Ron."

Q looked into Kim's eyes and could see the sincerity that infused her words. He wasn't ready to tell her, but he believed her.

IV.

_Mama Lipsky_ and _Drak Force One_ held station in a debris field at the edge of an uninhabited solar system while _Enterprise_ and the marauders were located two light years off in interstellar space. Thanks to Du and Carter, though, the evil squadron was able to keep abreast of its quarry's movements. The two shuttles hovered quietly, keeping careful watch over _Enterprise_ while holding communications to a minimum lest the Federation ship detect any transmissions.

On board _Drak Force One_, Shego was stretched out languidly, reading a data padd and sharpening her clawed gloves. Drakken, meanwhile, was busily fiddling with a gadget. Eric was seated at a workstation.

Eric cast a surreptitious glance at Drakken. The blue-skinned scientist was manifestly proud of Synthodrone 901, talking of him as if he were a son. To Eric, that made sense – Drakken was his creator, the man who brought him into being. He was his father, really. Shego was another matter. Eric had been programmed to recognize her as being beautiful. But there was no affection for her – nor was there animus. Indeed, he felt no emotion towards her.

Eric, done looking at his companions, returned his attention to his data padd. He knew what he had to do. Shego would not pose a problem. Drakken, however, was another matter, and he would have to think of how to best deal with that complication.

V.

"Okay, Possible or Stoppable or whatever you're calling yourself these days, here, as you like to say, is the sitch," Q began after taking a deep breath. "Big things are happening, bigger than you can even imagine. Decisions you make now will affect the lives of billions, indeed, the fate of the known galaxy. I can't tell you what's going to happen or what to do, since that may – no, will – affect your choices and thus the course of events – and thus inadvertently bring about the outcome you least desire. But I can tell you this: be alert, know who your friends truly are. And remember this: Alpha-White-Beta-Orange-Gamma-Purple-Delta-Black-Epsilon-Red. Oh, and this, too: Alpha-Orange-Beta-White-Gamma-Black-Delta-Purple-Epsilon-Red. Now repeat …"

Kim looked skeptically at Q, wondering what kind of game he was playing, and found herself growing ferociously uneasy. The impishness she had often seen in his eyes was not present. He was being serious. And given what she'd seen and experienced already of his abilities, she knew that if Q was being serious, she needed to pay attention. She took a deep breath and repeated the sequence; "Alpha-White …"

He made her repeat it over and over until she could rattle off the combination of letters and colors without hesitation.

"Well done, Possible. You have an impressive memory for a human," he said, his puckishness returning.

"No big," Kim said, trying to sound nonchalant as she sought to control her mounting worry. She still had no idea as to what was going on, and that bothered her tremendously. "Q, I know you can't tell me what's going on, but why are you doing this?"

"Because, believe it or not, you and Stoppable are my friends. Oh, and one more thing: make sure to repeat those sequences to Stoppable."

Without further comment, Q sent Kim back to _Enterprise_.

VI.

"Ambassador," Nechayev said, "Mr. Stoppable is a citizen of the United Federation of Planets. His freedom is not mine to bargain away. Nor are her marital rights something Ensign Stoppable can sell to you. Humans do not have marriage 'contracts,' at least not in the sense you are talking about. While humans exchange vows that are recognized by the state as creating a new legal situation, they do not exchange documents similar to the ones that would be executed were I to buy a shipment of duranium from you. Therefore, Ensign Stoppable doesn't have anything to sell to you."

"Then we have nothing else to talk about," Rayna said. "If you are unwilling to accommodate so small a request, how can I have confidence that you are truly ready to reach agreement on the larger issues before us?" She rose, then looked at her party, who had risen with her. "Come," she ordered.

"Ambassador," Fiske said as Rayna headed to the door. "It would be most unfortunate and … unnecessary … for us to end these negotiations prematurely. Perhaps you and I could talk in private for a few moments and see if we might reach an understanding that would allow us to proceed with our conversation."

"Are you suggesting you might be willing to make other concessions?" Rayna asked.

"I am merely saying that the Federation Council very much wishes for these talks to be successfully concluded." Then, looking at the officers, Ron, and Bonnie, he added, "And sometimes success is more easily attained when fewer people are involved in its pursuit."

"Understood, Ambassador," Nechayev said, recognizing that Fiske was probably about to start making offers that she would prefer not to know about. "Captain, Ms. Rockwaller, Mr. Stoppable," she added as she headed to the doors leading to the corridor. "Ensign, please escort our guests to the transporter room."

Rayna looked at her companions and smiled. "Wait for me there."

The largest of the Orionisi men merely nodded his head.

Moments later, Fiske and Rayna were alone and talking.

VII.

Picard sat behind his ready room desk and rubbed his temples. The last thing he'd needed to hear that night was that one of his officers had actually paid a visit to the Q Continuum and learned that something significant yet unspecified was unfolding.

His first instinct was to suspect that it had something to do with the PDVI and the Romulans. But since Q was involved, he couldn't be sure. He rose from his chair and asked the computer for an Earl Grey tea. As the drink materialized, the door chime sounded.

"Come," he ordered.

Counselor Troi walked in.

"Hello, Captain."

"Counselor, what brings you by at such a late hour?"

"Something told me that you might wish to talk after tonight's round of negotiations."

Picard smiled. "Deanna, have I told you how glad I am that you are half human? If you were wholly Betazoid I would be able to keep no secrets from you. May I get you something to drink?"

"No thank you, sir," she said with a warm smile.

Picard gestured to the couch. Troi took a seat, placing her hands on her knees, and Picard sat down beside her, crossing one leg over the other. He sat quietly and sipped at his tea. Then he told Deanna about the evening's events.

"That would explain the waves of anxiety radiating off of you, Captain."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only to me, sir. You would make a very good poker player."

"Thank you, Counselor."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"That is what I find so frustrating. I'm not sure there is anything I can do."

"What bothers you most out of all this?" Deanna asked. "Q?"

Picard looked genuinely surprised. "Oh no. While I can never fully trust him, I do believe he sees me – and now Kim and Ron – as friends. Not that that is a cause for comfort or complacency. However, I feel that Q, as manipulative and inscrutable as he is, is trying to be helpful this time. And as much as I would prefer to know what is going to happen, I cannot fault Q for honoring our right to make our own decisions. Indeed, it is as if he is being … respectful."

"Then what is bothering you?" Deanna asked.

"Ambassador Fiske. The Orionisi. I do not trust them."

"I can understand Rayna, sir. But why Fiske?"

"Counselor, have you noticed anything odd about him?"

"No, sir, I have not. He is a very guarded man, and he has numerous secrets. But he is a top diplomat, so that is to be expected."

"That is all well and true, Deanna. However, while I cannot put my finger on it, I suspect that he is up to something. I only wish I knew what it was."

VIII.

"Oooo, wow. Oooo, KP. That is badical! Ooooh …. Boo. Yah …"

Kim smiled as Ron voiced his approval as she worked on the knotted muscles in his shoulders. She couldn't blame him for still being so tense. She was tense when Rayna talked about buying Ron; she could only imagine how he felt.

"… Have I told you lately that I love you, Kim?" Ron moaned.

"Not in the last few minutes, actually."

"I love you."

"Glad to hear it, since you're stuck with me."

"Even if I wind up as some Orionisi feminina's boy toy?"

Kim stopped massaging Ron's shoulders and wrapped her arms around him. "The only person whose boy toy you're going to be is mine, got it, Mr. Possible?"

Ron grinned. As much as Kim's words were meant to be playful and salacious, they were also comforting and reassuring. Ron couldn't help but feel safe around Kim, and it wasn't because she was a martial arts expert or trained Starfleet security professional. He'd always felt that way, ever since his abortive attempt to help her in the pre-K playground led to her having to rescue him from the bullies who had originally targeted her.

He reached up and placed his hands over his wife's and closed his eye. "This has been one weird day, hasn't it?"

"Ferociously," she agreed.

"Sorry," he said, a note of resignation in his voice.

"Why are you apologizing?" she asked.

"KP, don't tell me that this is how you saw your wedding day going down," he said.

She couldn't help but laugh. "No, Ron, it wasn't. I didn't expect it so soon. I didn't expect it to be on the bridge of a starship. I most definitely didn't expect it to involve Q. But it did involve you as the groom, and that makes me ferociously happy."

"Really?" Ron asked. Part of him still couldn't believe that Kim Possible had actually married him, Ron Stoppable.

"Really," she said before nibbling on his ear. "Sure, it's been a crazy nine days. But all I can keep thinking about is how we've come together since you stepped off that transporter platform. Realizing that I was in love with my best friend in the galaxy has been incredible, Ron. Sometimes I feel like I'm dreaming …"

"I know what you mean. Then I find myself fighting Klingons and wonder if I ate too many chimeritos before I went to bed."

"You really are weird," she said before tousling his hair. "It's a good thing I love you," she added playfully before saying gently, "Together, I think we can do anything, Ron."

"You really think so?" he asked.

"I know so, Ron. Don't get me wrong. You were right. We're going to make mistakes. Big ones, I'm sure. But we'll make them together. And we'll learn from them together. And I'm sure that we'll be talking and laughing about them in a hundred years when we're at the Chez Leisure in New Middleton gumming our food."

"I don't know why, KP, but that," Ron said, his voice breaking, "is so beautiful …"

Kim was sure she heard sniffling.

"… I – am – not – crying," he added.

Kim freed one of her hands from Ron's clasp and began to gently wipe away the tears on his good cheek. "I love you, Ron Stoppable. Don't you ever forget that. Ever. Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

They sat quietly for a while.

"So," Ron eventually said. "Can I take my bon-diggity wife to bed?"

"Please and thank you," Kim whispered into his ear.

IX.

"So how was the wedding?" Bonnie asked.

Worf paused before answering. "Unusual."

"How so?" she wondered.

"It was highly irregular," he barked.

"Hellooo," Bonnie said a bit caustically. "Worf, this is a wedding, not some battle we're talking about."

Worf looked genuinely surprised. "A traditional Klingon wedding is evocative of battle. The souls of two warriors are united, preparing them for all challenges. If they are fortunate, they will fall together in combat."

Bonnie snorted. "You must have slept in the morning of Romance 101."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Worf," she said evenly. "Kim may be wound a bit too tight for my tastes, and she has a holier-than-thou 'tude that I so don't need, and Ron is always going to be a dork, no matter how brave he is. But at least now I can be objective and say that the idea of two childhood friends finding love in one another's arms is sooo sweet. I mean, those two have been joined at the hip since, like, forever. They're together. They deserve romance, candles, whispered sweet nothings, rose petals …"

Worf looked at Bonnie with surprise; he'd only known her for a couple of days, but this sentimental side of her was something he'd have never predicted.

"… zero-gravity sex …"

That, however, was something he expected from her.

"… and all you're talking about," she said in a mockingly low voice, "is blood, guts, and gore."

"They are warriors," he said defiantly.

Bonnie snorted again. "Worf, take a look at those two. They may be warriors. Hell, they're definitely both whacked, the way they use those swords and things, but they're still just a couple of inexperienced kids."

"Unlike you," Worf said evenly.

"So unlike me," she said with a wolfish grin.

"Perhaps you are right. I will consider that. But there are other reasons that I found the ceremony unusual." Worf, after swearing Bonnie to secrecy, then explained the involvement of Q.

"You were wearing a tuxedo?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes," he replied petulantly.

Bonnie began to snicker, then laughed, then guffawed.

"It is not funny," he said.

"Not funny? Fearsome Klingon Warrior Worf in a bowtie. A-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Worf watched Bonnie laugh. He still found her to be narcissistic, cutting, and calculating. But he remained intrigued by her. She was able to peek behind his façade in a way that no other woman had ever been able to. That she could so after so short a period of time alarmed and excited him. He took a moment to see things from her perspective. Finally, he had to make the admission: what she had just described was a rather preposterous image. He began to smile, then he joined Bonnie in hearty laughter.

As Worf and Bonnie reveled in the absurdity of the situation, and began to talk of others they had experienced, they both realized that they had found something more than a quick fling. They had each found, despite the difference in surface appearances, a kindred spirit. They had found a comrade, a friend.

X.

Fiske's talks with Rayna had gone well, very well. The two diplomats had been able to reach an accommodation that would provide for the swift and successful conclusion of the negotiations the next day. There were just a few more details to attend to, and those could wait until the morning.

The Englishman was excited; his ambitions were closer to fruition than ever before. He knew he had to remain rested and focused.

He assumed the lotus position and meditated. When the serenity chime sounded he exhaled and smiled.

It was good to be centered.

It was even better to know he would soon be Supreme Klingon Ruler.

XI.

Long before either Kim or Ron acknowledged amorous feelings for the other, both had entertained fantasies of passionate lovemaking on their wedding night. Both assumed that was what was done.

What neither had accounted for were the problems of being dog-tired, of having to work all day, of dealing with someone wanting to buy one of them, of the other visiting another plane of existence, of coming off of adrenaline rushes. So after Kim massaged Ron, remembered to repeat the sequence that Q had shared and they had cuddled, they both fell into a deep slumber.

When Kim awoke the next morning, she was confused. She expected to find Ron beside her in the bed. Instead, she was alone.

She sat up groggily, then became more alert as tempting aromas began to waft into the sleeping area of their quarters.

_Bacon,_ she thought_. He still has some of the bacon. Spankin'! _Kim's first thought after waking had been to make love with her new husband. But those thoughts were shunted aside as she envisioned a plate of hot, fresh food from Earth. _Who needs sex_, _when I've got his cooking? Of course, I'll need sex to work off all the calories from his cooking. This is so the win-win situation._ Kim giggled, amused by the way she was thinking. She may have loved Ron, may have married him, but she also knew part of her would always see him as the goofy, hapless little boy in the playground.

She stretched, then climbed out of bed and padded her way into the small galley, where she found Ron.

"Mmm. That smells ferociously good. Are you taken?" she asked.

"Yeah. Red-headed babe. You don't want to get on her bad side, though. I hear she's got the mad fu martial arts skills."

"Really? She sounds pretty tough."

"You better believe it," he said as he took the bacon out of the pan, removed some of the grease, then began pouring the egg batter in. "And the kung fu thing isn't the worst of it. You really get on her bad side, she'll cook for you."

Kim stared at Ron through narrowed eyes. "So not funny," she said with a pout before her eyes rested on the counter. "Oh my gosh … Is that …"

"English farmhouse cheddar."

"And you're putting it in the eggs?"

"Yep."

"Okay, you can insult me all you want, if you're going to feed me that."

Ron grinned. "Sorry 'bout the crack, KP. But here's an idea. Why don't I teach you how to cook?"

Kim groaned. "Ron, you've tried that. Remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do. And the folks at the Culinary Institute seem to have put that unfortunate incident behind them." Kim's foray into one of the Institute's teaching kitchens was almost as memorable as Ron's infamous childhood visit to Utopia Planitia. "Seriously, Kim. If Worf can teach me to be a warrior, the Rondo can teach you how to cook."

"I don't know, Ron," she said dubiously.

"Kim, you can do anything, remember?"

"Okay, maybe I was being braggy when I said that."

"Nuh-uh," he said, all the while slowly scrambling the eggs. "I believe in you. Now come over here."

Kim reluctantly complied. She stood in front of the small range. Ron placed himself behind her. He put the whisk into her hand, then wrapped his other arm around her waist. Then, he gently took her wrist and guided it to the pan; he began guiding her hand.

"See, KP? You're cooking!" he enthused.

Kim smiled as she looked down at the almost-scrambled eggs. "You're too much, Ron."

"I am what I is," he said. "Now, if I were you, I'd be telling my hottie husband that he should let me take the pan off the burner because my eggs were done."

"Hottie husband, eh?" she said wryly.

"Yup."

"Okay, hottie husband. The eggs are ready."

"Excellent," he said as she removed the pan from the range. Ron took the eggs from Kim and served them onto waiting plates. Then he put the bacon beside them. "Breakfast is served."

Kim allowed Ron to pull out a chair for her, then watched as he set the plates down. She smiled as he brought over the coffee and juice. She looked at her plate, then began to laugh.

"Okay, you've just lost me, KP."

"I'm sorry, Ron, it's just that when you put the bacon down it made a smiley face. Mom used to do that when she made sunny-side up syntho-eggs."

"I don't remember that," Ron said as he began to tuck into his breakfast.

Kim snorted. "That's because you usually polished off your facon with inhuman speed."

"Ah yes, Ron Stoppable, Mars' most efficient eater."

"You know our children are going to have better table manners than that."

Ron stopped eating. He looked at Kim and blinked.

An awkward silence descended on the table.

"Oh gosh, Ron, I just assumed you'd want a family …" she said.

Kim cringed as she realized that while she and Ron had talked about a lot of things in recent days, they hadn't talked about everything. She wondered what other surprises there'd be for them to deal with. Try as she might, she couldn't help but look disappointed.

"No, no, KP!" Ron protested. "I'm cool with kids. Really. It's just the idea of you and me. Wow. I mean, I know we're married and all. But still. I mean, your DNA and mine mixing it up like that. Wow. I mean. Wow. You actually want to have kids with me. Me. Ron Stoppable having kids with Kim Possible. Wow."

Kim, relieved, smiled and rested her chin on her steepled hands. "I'm not ready to start now, but I'm really looking forward to having a family with you. You know you're going to make a great dad, Ron."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do. I can so see you giving our baby horsey rides and making funny faces and goofy sounds and …"

Ron looked at Kim across the table as she talked and imagined the future she was describing, and felt like the luckiest man in the universe.

XII.

Yori spun on her heel and kicked out. Kim barely dodged her attack.

Yori then did a double back flip, pivoted, and pressed forward with a one-two punch combination that Kim blocked.

Kim responded by hooking her ankle around Yori's and tripping up the Asian woman. Yori landed on her rump and shook her head.

"Very good, Kim. I am pleased to see that even though you now have a job of leisure, you are maintaining your skills."

Kim laughed as she saw the grin with which Yori delivered her jab. "Yeah, I actually need to work out more, sitting in that big comfy bridge chair all day is so not good for my bottom."

Yori extended a hand and Kim helped her to her feet. As she rose, she noticed the band on Kim's hand. "I am most pleased for you, Kim."

"Thanks, Yori. I'm glad you were able to join us. Hard to think that a little over a week ago I was jealing over you and Ron."

"Jealing?"

"Jealing. Jealous. The moment you two left Ten Forward for the holodeck I began to wonder what I'd done. I think that's when I first began to realize just how I really felt about Ron."

"I see," Yori said, remembering the kiss she had shared with him. It had been nice, very nice, but she had left her interest in Kim's visitor behind once it became clear he was interested in Kim. "Given the result, it is my honor to have aroused your jealousy."

The two young officers left the holodeck and boarded the turbolift. Yori exited first. She waved to Kim as the doors slid shut, then began walking down the corridor to her quarters.

Her comm badge chirped.

"Tanaka here."

"Lieutenant," the refined voice said. "Would you be so kind as to report to my quarters immediately. I have a most urgent assignment to discuss with you."

"Yes, Lord Fiske. I am on my way."

With a deep-seated sense of trepidation, Yori turned on her heel and made her way back to the turbolift.

XIII.

Eric hefted Drakken's limp form into the escape pod. The blue-skinned scientist was now lying next to Shego, who was also unconscious. It had been easy enough for the synthodrone to surreptitiously adjust the life-support controls so he could cut off the oxygen. It wasn't long before his two human companions had fainted and he was able to put them into stasis, using the portable devices that Drakken himself had invented and for some inexplicable reason had on board _Drak Force One_.

Eric took a final look at the man who had created him. "Bye, Dad," he said before he closed the hatch, exited the airlock, and sent the capsule on its journey into deep space.

XIV.

"Good workout?" Ron asked.

"Mmm. Yes, but not as good as this," Kim replied.

"You gonna say it or should I?" he said with a laugh.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"You know. There's nothing like …"

Kim groaned. "… Some good clean fun," she finished. She then took one of Ron's hands in hers and kissed it. "Now, more lathering, less punning, please and thank you."

XV.

"You are aware that the fleet has been dispatched to the Romulan Neutral Zone?" Fiske asked.

"Yes, Ambassador. I received word from headquarters." Yori was referring to Section 31. Starfleet Command was going to keep news of the deployment confidential for as long as possible, though nobody in San Francisco believed they would be able to do so for more than a few days. After that, word would spread and with it, fears of intergalactic war.

"You are aware that we have been conducting negotiations with the Orionisi," Fiske stated.

"Yes. In order to secure our right flank," she replied.

"We have almost reached an agreement," he reported. "There is, however, one demand being made by our visitors that will require your services if it is to be met."

"I see, Lord Fiske," Yori said, wondering what the diplomat had in mind.

"I cannot overemphasize the gravity of the situation, Lieutenant. Ambassador Rayna has been explicit about this matter. A failure to cooperate by the Federation will lead to a rejection of the pact by the Orionisi. That, in turn, could lead to not only the Orionisi, but the Breen and other hostile powers launching raids on the Federation while our ships are contending with the Romulan threat."

Fiske, who was standing with his back to Yori, turned and gazed at her.

"Do you remember our conversation of the other day?"

"I do," she said.

"And does your answer still hold? I – no, the Federation – need to know if you can be relied upon to complete this mission."

"Yes, you may count on me," Yori said as she stood tall and squared her shoulders. "It is my honor to serve the Federation and defend its security."

"Very good, then. Here is what must be accomplished by 1100 hours."

XVI.

Ron wasn't really sure what to do with himself. Kim had left for the bridge, and he wasn't scheduled to meet Miles O'Brien until noon.

Finally, he poured himself another cup of coffee, thinking how much he was going to miss drinking the real thing. His eyes settled on the computer monitor, and he decided he would indulge himself in a guilty pleasure. He positioned the device so he could view the screen while he was lying on the couch. Then he plumped some pillows, kicked off his boots and stretched out.

"Computer, do you, uh, have videos of _Nan Tastic?_

"Affirmative. All 87 episodes and two movies are in the database."

"Badical!" Ron enthused. A few months earlier, he'd discovered the 21st century cartoon about a red-headed cheerleader who saved the world with the assistance of her goofy best friend turned boyfriend. He watched the show constantly. It was fun, amusing – and the characters reminded him of Kim and himself. He recalled watching the second movie and the fourth season, wishing that he and Kim were involved the way Nan and Bob Solete were. Now that his own fantasy had come true, he thought it would be fun to watch the show. He wanted to watch his favorite episode, "Forward Emotion," the one where a villain slapped a mood-altering device on Nan, causing her to crush on Bob. Ron had always felt for Bob when the latter did the right thing and didn't take advantage of his friend. Ron was delighted when during the second movie Nan discovered her true feelings for Bob and the two teens became a couple.

The theme music had just finished playing when the door chimed.

"Yo, come in," Ron called out.

The door opened, and Ron looked up to see his visitor.

"Yori!" he said, swinging his feet to the floor so he could get up and greet her. "What –"

Ron crumpled back onto the couch before he could finish his sentence.

"Forgive me, Ron," the young ninja said as she approached him. She looked down at his slumped form and added, as if trying to convince herself, "The good of the many outweighs the good of the one. Or the two."

XVII.

"Goodbye, Captain. It was a pleasure to meet you. I would especially like to thank you for your hospitality. It was most memorable."

"You're welcome, Ambassador," Picard said tightly.

Rayna smiled. "Relax, Captain Picard. You won't have to worry about sullying your virtue any further. I believe our pact will stand both our peoples in good stead for a long time to come."

"Let us hope so, Ambassador," Picard replied.

"I do, Captain. And good luck with the Romulans. The Syndicate would much prefer to have the Federation as its neighbor. Rayna out," she said before her image was replaced with that of three retreating Orionisi marauders.

XVIII.

"Ensign, how long until we reach the Neutral Zone?"

Kim did a series of calculations, then turned to Picard. "Traveling at warp 7.5 we should be there in approximately 20 hours, sir."

"Very good. We will hold station for another four hours; hopefully Mr. Du and Mr. Carter will have returned by then. Otherwise we will have to proceed without them."

Kim returned to her console, making preparations for the trip to rendezvous with the fleet. It was sobering to think that less than 24 hours after she was married she would be piloting the ship to a potential war zone. She was checking her calculations when her comm badge chirped.

"Stoppable here," she said.

"Ensign, I'm sorry to disturb you, but do you know where Ron is?"

Kim was surprised to hear the unmistakable brogue; Ron should have met O'Brien for lunch twenty minutes earlier.

"I thought he was with you, Chief?"

"He's not. I waited for him in Ten Forward. When he didn't show up, I called him, but there was no response. I'm standing in front of your quarters right now; I rang and knocked, but he didn't answer."

"Well, we did have a very full day yesterday," Kim said, not mentioning the full morning they'd also had. "He probably fell asleep watching a holofilm. Let me unlock the door for you."

Kim entered a series of commands.

"Ensign," Miles said, "Ron's not here."

What Kim found to be an unnervingly long pause ensued.

"And his comm badge is on your couch."

What Kim thought of as her weird-ar began pinging. She turned to the captain. "Sir, I'm sure it's nothing, but …"

"Understood, Ensign." Instinct developed through years of service told Picard something was not right.

"Sir, if I may?" Riker asked.

"Of course, Number One. Mr. Worf, Mr. Data, you're with Ensign Possible."

Kim, accompanied by Riker, Data and Worf, headed for the turbolift. She knew it was irrational, but she suddenly found herself wishing she'd had a tracking device implanted in Ron. Without his comm badge, the computer couldn't track his whereabouts. Now he could be anywhere on the massive ship.

XIX.

More than three hours later, Kim, with the assistance of Riker, Worf, Yori, the rest of security, O'Brien, Rufus, and a host of others, employing every tool available, had searched the entire ship from stem to stern.

She returned to the bridge, accompanied by Riker and Worf.

Picard looked up and saw the hard expression on the face of his young officer. He knew without her saying a word that something was wrong, very wrong.

"Sir," Kim reported, "Ron's no longer aboard _Enterprise_."

"Ensign, how is that possible?" Picard asked.

"I don't know, sir. But I have a pretty good idea of where he is. And when I get my hands on that Orionisi she is going to be so busted."

_TBC …_


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks to whitem, JPMod, Matri, calamite, Darkcloud1, campy, mkusenagi2, Josh84, Mattk, Whisper from the Shadows, surforst, zeerak, IndrediRaider8, RealityBreakGirl, Taechunsa, Ezbok58a, Uru Baen, spectre666, TexasDad, jasminevr, MichaelCross, captainkodak1, Molloy, CajunBear73, conan98002, Commander Argus, AtomicFire, Visigoth29527, The Mad shoe1, mattb3671, Yuri Sisteble, Zaratan, and Ace Ian Combat for reviewing and to everyone for reading.

Special thanks to campy for his beta and proof work. As a token of my gratitude, a future hat is not its way …

Write a review, get a response.

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; if you saw it on _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I.

Ron's eye fluttered open.

He felt incredibly groggy. And his neck … hurt. He reached his hand up to touch the source of discomfort and tensed as he felt something unfamiliar on his neck.

Ron tried removing the mysterious object – and immediately felt a jolt of energy course through his body. He let out a cry of pain as he collapsed back onto the bed, overcome by a wave of nausea and dizziness. He found himself gasping for air. He panted; slowly, his breathing returned to normal.

Not knowing his location was bad; knowing someone had put a pain-inducing device on him was far scarier. Ron struggled to control his sense of mounting panic. He had no trouble admitting he was frightened: he didn't know where he was, he didn't know what to do, and he knew he was alone.

"Okay, Rondo, what would Kim do in a situation like this?" Ron asked himself. "One: she wouldn't freak. She'd keep her head in the game. I can do that. It's not like I'm locked in a room with a bunch of monkeys …"

A vivid image of hooting, screeching simians immediately popped into Ron's head.

"… Okay. Bad choice of words," he muttered anxiously. "Think of something good. Think of KP."

Ron imagined himself and Kim as children holed up in the old tree house; it was a place where he'd always felt secure. Feeling a little bit calmer, Ron resumed assessing his predicament. The next thing Kim would do, he thought, was try to figure out where she was. He stood up and began to look around his surroundings.

The bunk he'd been on was fairly comfortable. There was a chair and what appeared to be a lavatory with a sonic shower. There was even a small porthole through which he could see stars streaking by. Then his gaze settled on the door.

He cautiously approached the door, which resembled those on _Enterprise_; he wasn't surprised when it didn't open for him.

He looked around to see if there was a control pad or speaker that could be used to operate the door, but found nothing. Nor, it was clear, was there an old-style handle or knob.

Ron may not have been a trained security professional and he knew he wasn't the smartest citizen of the Federation. But he had no doubt, despite the comforts of the cabin, that he was being held prisoner on an alien ship.

And he had a sickening feeling that he knew who owned the ship.

II.

"That is quite the accusation, Ensign Possible."

Kim stared through narrowed eyes across the Observation Lounge table at Fiske. "It's Stoppable," she snapped, not caring that she was speaking to one of the Federation's top diplomats. "And all the evidence points in that direction."

"What evidence? Ron Stoppable has gone missing and he can't be found. I do not mean to sound insensitive, but there are other explanations," the ambassador said in his superior tones.

Picard, his eyebrow arched, asked, "And what would those be?"

"Perhaps, overwhelmed by everything that has happened to him in recent days, he snapped and committed suicide …"

Kim's eyes grew wide, a low growl began to rise from her throat, and she began to rise from her seat. Worf placed a restraining hand on her arm.

"… He could have launched himself into the matter/antimatter stream in one of the engine nacelles. Indeed, he might well have been unstable long before he came on board …"

"Ron was very stable and quite content, Ambassador," Deanna said coolly. "In fact, everything he has experienced in recent days served to give him determination and focus. He is very much in love with Ensign Stoppable, and was clearly anticipating sharing his future with her. He had no reason to kill himself."

Fiske, not to be deterred, replied belligerently. "So you say. If I am correct, you are only half Betazoid …"

"…. And a highly accomplished counselor," Picard interjected sharply. "I will not have you questioning Commander Troi's expertise in this area, especially since you yourself have none."

The diplomat glared at Picard. "Then let us assume, for the moment and only for the sake of discussion, that Stoppable is alive. Perhaps Q has taken him."

"That, unlike your other theory, is at least plausible," Nechayev said to Fiske before turning to Picard and Kim. "Q's interest in Mr. Stoppable has been amply demonstrated, Captain …"

A blinding flash of light filled the lounge. Picard found himself displaced from his accustomed seat at the head of the table in favor of Q, who was wearing a deerstalker hat and smoking a meerschaum pipe.

"Q!" Picard said.

"Hello, Jean-Luc, Kimberly. My ears were burning," he said before looking back at Nechayev. "Go on, my dear Alynna, I love a good mystery!"

"Perhaps, then, you would like to solve this one," the admiral demanded frostily. "Did you have anything to do with Ron Stoppable's disappearance?"

"Little old _moi_?" Q said innocently. "Sorry, but I would suggest you look elsewhere. Rondo's not with me. I've been quite busy taunting some very nasty life forms in the Kra T'nabulon system …"

Q noticed Picard's intrigued expression. "Forget about them, Jean-Luc, right now you've got more important things to worry about than strange new worlds and civilizations. Besides, they're mean-spirited, hold grudges, they smell funny and live in the most dreary little star system. Fortunately for you, you'll be long retired when the Federation has the misfortune of first encountering them."

"Hello! Can we focus?" Kim asked before addressing the omnipotent visitor. "Q, do you know where Ron is?"

"Yes," he answered. "He's with the Orionisi."

"I knew it," Kim said, slamming her hands down on the table.

"Ensign …" Picard cautioned.

"Sorry, sir," she replied, chagrined, but clearly still angry.

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Fiske asked.

"Excuse me?" Q asked.

"You've shown yourself to be duplicitous, devious, and calculating," Fiske replied. "You could be fabricating all of this to sabotage our relations with the Syndicate."

"And why would I do that?" Q wondered aloud.

"To amuse yourself," the ambassador said smugly. "Your reputation precedes you."

"Why, you annoying, pretentious …" Q sputtered before he snapped his fingers. Everyone around the table stared at the ambassador, who had been changed into a shrieking monkey.

"Q, turn him back at once," the captain demanded.

"Oh, come now, Jean-Luc," Q said. "I actually think he prefers being a monkey. Besides, he makes far more sense this way."

"Q …" Picard said, a warning tone in his voice.

"Fine, fine," the omnipotent alien said before snapping his fingers.

"As I was saying …" Fiske continued.

"That's enough, Ambassador," Nechayev said, cutting him off. "I have to agree with Ensign Stoppable. The Orionisi have both motive and history."

The admiral pressed her comm badge. "Mr. Data, this is Admiral Nechayev. Hail Ambassador Rayna's ship."

"Yes, ma'am," the android said.

"Ooo, this is so exciting," Q said, his eyes sparkling. "History is about to start being made …"

All heads turned to him.

"… I think I've said enough. I'll be going now. Ta-ta!"

Q left in a literal flash, Picard was returned to his seat, and Rayna appeared on the viewscreen.

"Admiral, how may I help you?" she asked.

"Ambassador," Nechayev said, "we have reason to believe that a Federation citizen is on board one of your ships, and that he was taken against his will."

"Oh, you must be referring to the chef," Rayna said with unnerving nonchalance. "Fear not. He's here of his own volition."

"Ambassador," Picard said reasonably, "I mean you no offense, but I find that hard to believe."

"Do you doubt me, Captain?" Rayna asked, sounding offended.

"Let's just say that I would find the notion that Mr. Stoppable chose to abandon his wife surreptitiously more credible were I to hear it from Mr. Stoppable himself."

"I'm sorry," Rayna said imperiously. "It simply won't be possible for you to speak with him."

"Ambassador, I must protest," Picard replied, any pretense at cordiality gone.

"Protest all you wish, Captain. The chef will remain with us. And be warned: any attempt to interfere with any Syndicate property will be considered a violation of our sovereignty and cause for abrogating the security agreement between our peoples. Now, I must be going … I have to discuss dinner menus."

The Orionisi woman's image was replaced by a starfield.

"I cannot believe her!" Kim exclaimed. "Sir, we have to go after them!"

"We shall do no such thing," Fiske declared. "Ambassador Rayna was quite explicit."

"Ambassador," Picard said, "with all due respect, Ensign Stoppable is correct. A Federation citizen who happens to be a key figure in Klingon politics has been abducted. We cannot stand idly by."

"Captain, we do not know that Mr. Stoppable was abducted. Perhaps the ambassador is correct; he may have chosen to go with them on his own."

"Ambassador Fiske," Deanna said, barely restraining her annoyance, "Ron had no desire to leave _Enterprise_. He was happy here."

"So you say; it appears otherwise to me, and I will not allow a vital security agreement to be jeopardized because the paramour of a junior officer chose to make a change in his life."

Kim sprang to her feet. "Ron was right. You are five hundred light years of bad road!"

Fiske looked as if he'd been struck. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're behind this! Did you even listen to that woman? She was talking about Ron as her property! You traded him for that agreement. How did you get him off _Enterprise_?"

"Ensign," Picard warned.

"Sir," Kim said, looking at her commanding officer as she pointed at Fiske. "The Ambassador wanted this deal. Rayna wanted Ron. Ron then conveniently disappears, not only paving the way for the security pact, but, I'm going to guess, giving Ambassador Fiske an excuse to try to lay claim to the Sword of Kahless."

"That is outrageous!" Fiske exclaimed. "I will not stand for this impertinence!"

"And I won't stand for you selling Ron down the river for your agreement!" Kim shot back. "That is just so ferociously wrong."

"Captain, I demand that you discipline her," Fiske insisted.

"I see no reason to do that, Ambassador," Picard replied. "Ensign Stoppable's theory is more than plausible. I actually would be most interested in knowing just what understanding you and Ambassador Rayna reached last night."

"As would I, Lord Fiske," Nechayev added.

"I am sorry, but that is confidential," Fiske sniffed.

"Yes, I'm sure it is," Picard said. "Ambassador –"

Picard's comm badge chirped. "Yes?"

"Captain," Data said. "I am sorry to disturb you. But Chancellor Gowron wishes to speak with you. He said it is a matter of the utmost importance to the Empire."

"Put him through to my ready room, Mr. Data," Picard said as he stood and adjusted his tunic. "If you will excuse me …"

III.

About the same time the conference had begun in _Enterprise_'s Observation Lounge, Gowron, having returned to the Klingon homeworld, was looking across a large trestle table at the heavyset figure of Dumok, head of the House of Q'raK.

"Why do you tell me this?" the Klingon leader asked.

"Because," the larger man said, "while you annoy me, the Duras sisters frighten me. I would rather have a calculating politician at the head of the Council table than those scheming banshees. They are dangerous. None of us would be safe."

"Did they say how they plan to come into possession of the Sword?"

"No. But they spoke with arrogance born of confidence. If I were you, I would expect them to move soon."

"And if they do, will I have your support and that of the other Houses?"

"Yes. But on one condition."

"What is that?"

"Disavow the human. It is bad enough that one of their kind is the Arbiter of Succession. We do not need one of them assuming the role of one of the most mythic figures in all Klingon history."

"And what of the Sword?"

"There the humans can be of help to us; let the Sword remain with the Federation. It is more secure with them than it would be among us. On _Qo'noS,_ it would be the object of plotting and endless intrigue. Indeed, you can tell them that you expect them to guarantee the bat'leth's safety."

Gowron pondered what he had just been told. He had not only recognized the one-eyed human as the Chosen One, but declared him to be the head of a Klingon House. Yet balanced against that was this very real threat to his power and the stability of the Empire. Gowron knew that he needed the support of men like Dumok if he was to retain office and keep the Duras sisters at bay.

"I will speak with Picard …"

IV.

Ron, at a loss as to what to do, was lying on his bunk, trying to think happy thoughts and not dwell on the memory of how Yori had shot him, when the door slid open. He sat up to see Rayna.

"You!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, me," she said. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Stoppable. I hope you like your quarters."

"Uh, they're very nice, but I really don't plan to stay all that long."

"You're very amusing," Rayna said as she approached him. "You should know that I plan to make your stay most agreeable."

Ron gulped. He, like every other male in the Alpha Quadrant, had heard of the overpowering pheromones of Orionisi women and how they used sex to control their men.

"Don't look so uncomfortable," the woman purred.

"Uh, sorry," Ron, suddenly feeling flushed, said as he tugged at his collar. "It's kinda warm in here."

"You should let me help you relax," she said as she reached a hand up to his good cheek.

Ron's breathing was growing ragged and, much to his consternation, his libido was stirring. "Look, you're really attractive and all that," he said huskily, "but I'm happily married …"

"I will make you forget that child."

"I, uh, don't think so," Ron said, fighting his swiftly mounting desire. "Me and KP, we're really tight. Go back to pre-K. You know I love her."

"You know she betrayed you," Rayna said.

"You're lying!" Ron said, feeling the perspiration on his brow. "That was Yori. Kim would never do that."

"Foolish boy. She wears Starfleet's uniform. She will follow orders and do as she is told – even if that means abandoning you."

Ron knew that Kim loved being a Starfleet officer, that she had dreamed of wearing the uniform ever since she was a little girl who could lie beneath a tree and gaze at the night sky. But she'd been his best friend even longer and he knew that she wouldn't leave him behind.

"Nice try, but you can't play me," Ron stammered.

"You don't seem to understand, chef," Rayna said, bringing her lips close to Ron's. "I can do with you what I will."

_Even if I never see her again, I'm not gonna cheat on Kim. No way_, Ron told himself as he struggled to resist Rayna's influence.

"You are mine and you will serve me," Rayna said in her Siren's voice.

Ron, desperately fighting his now rampant desire to be taken by Rayna, could think of only one way to fend off the Orionisi. Steeling himself, he reached up to the device on his neck and yanked at it with all his strength.

Rayna jumped back as he screamed.

Ron didn't stop pulling until the pain overwhelmed him and he collapsed.

V.

If the timing of Gowron's call was surprising, what he had to say was truly shocking.

When the leader of the Klingon Empire made it clear that he wished to speak with Picard in private, the captain retired to his ready room. To say Picard was disturbed by their conversation was an understatement. Gowron had been blunt: the Duras sisters were threatening his hold on the chancellorship, which would destabilize the Empire and in turn pose a security threat to the Federation, since the two women were hostile to the government that had blocked their rise to power.

"That brings me to the reason for contacting you," Gowron said. "We need to discuss the Chosen One."

Picard took a deep breath. "Chancellor, I have some disturbing news on that front. Ron Stoppable has been abducted by the Orionisi." The captain explained what they had learned.

"What of the Sword? Is it safe?"

"Yes, it's still on board _Enterprise_."

"Make sure it remains that way," the chancellor said. "Picard, the Empire has survived without the Chosen One; many on the Council believe it will continue to do so, indeed, ought to."

"Chancellor …" Picard began to say before he was interrupted by Gowron's raised hand.

"Picard, I recognize that your government does not wish to stir up trouble with the Syndicate just as war with the Romulans is threatening. The Council is sympathetic to your situation. We do not expect you to jeopardize your security in an attempt to rescue Stoppable. All we expect is that you guarantee the safety of the Sword."

Picard could not help but note the sense of relief that marked Gowron's words, nor what remained unspoken, yet was quite clear: the Klingons would not be going to Ron's rescue, and they would prefer that the Federation didn't, either.

VI.

Kim was stunned by what Picard reported after he returned to the Observation Lounge. She felt as if the deck was slipping out from beneath her feet. First Ron had been kidnapped, then he had been abandoned by the Klingons.

"Mr. Data, what is the present location of the Orionisi marauders?"

_Enterprise_'s second officer had joined the conference.

"Based on their current heading and velocity, they appear to be on course for Taigus VIII, sir," he answered as a starmap appeared on the viewscreen behind Picard's head.

"That is one of their trading stations, is it not?" the captain asked.

"Yes, sir. Taigus VIII is home to one of the Orionisi's largest slave markets. The planet is heavily fortified, which is not surprising given both its importance to the Syndicate and the nature of the business conducted there."

"Are they still in Federation space?"

"No, sir. The squadron passed into Syndicate territory 43.4 minutes ago."

"Thank you, Mr. Data," the captain replied.

"Sir, we need to get Ron off that ship," Kim said.

Picard looked at Nechayev, then took a deep breath before he spoke again. "I am sorry, Ensign, but we will not be able to do that."

"Sir?" Kim stammered, unwilling to believe what she had just heard.

"With the fleet deployed at the Neutral Zone, I cannot take _Enterprise_ into action in Syndicate space."

"You mean you're going to let them get away with this?" she asked incredulously. "This is so wrong. You just said that we can't let a Federation citizen be abducted …"

"Believe me, Ensign – Kim – this is not easy for me," Picard said.

"Excuse me, sir, but that's not good enough. Even if Ron weren't my husband, this would be so flawed. He's already given more to Starfleet and the Federation in the past few days than most officers give in a lifetime. We have to rescue him. We owe him."

"Ensign, I understand your feelings," Nechayev said. "I assure you, we will file a diplomatic protest and work to secure your husband's release as quickly as possible."

"You cannot be serious," Kim said, unable to hide her disbelief. "One of their diplomats kidnapped Ron because I wouldn't sell him to her!"

"I am fully aware of that, Ensign," Nechayev said tightly. "But we must balance Ron's welfare against the safety of this ship and the security of the entire Federation."

"Admiral, when I put on this uniform, I took an oath to support the Constitution and the Universal Declaration of Rights, not to sell them out because it would be convenient for us or the Klingons. And when I joined this crew," she added, looking directly at Picard, "I actually believed it when I was told that I was joining a family."

"Ms. Stoppable, I took the same oath as you, and I take it seriously. My entire adult life has been dedicated to Starfleet and its mission. Everything we are doing is to defend the Federation," Nechayev said evenly.

"That is so wrong," Kim shot back. "If we start trading individual lives for safety, how are we any different from the Romulans or Cardassians?"

"That's enough, Ensign. I will not be lectured by you," Nechayev snapped. "You are only concerned with the fate of one man and your own happiness. We have to worry about this ship and the security of this sector. Mr. Stoppable's release will be pursued within that larger context. That particular objective will dictate neither our decision nor our actions." The admiral glared at Kim for a long moment. "Under no circumstance are you to attempt to contact or rescue Mr. Stoppable. That is a direct order. We will work through channels to secure his freedom. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, you do," Kim said as she returned the flag officer's hostile gaze. She then removed her comm badge and her pip and laid them on the table. "However, you can't give me orders anymore, Admiral."

Kim then turned to Picard. "I can't wear this uniform anymore," she said with disgust. "I resign."

VII.

When Ron came to, he discovered that he was in a cage in what he surmised was a cargo hold. He looked around the gloomy space feeling confused and very, very afraid.

Soon, he caught the eye of a large Orionisi male. The guard strode up to Ron and spit on him.

"Hey," Ron protested. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because you are a fool!" The guard sneered at Ron, then laughed. "Do you realize what you have done? No male has ever rejected Rayna before. You could have been a part of her household, lived like a prince."

Ron looked around. "Something tells me that's not on her agenda anymore, is it?"

"No," the guard said.

Ron gulped as he took in the man's malicious expression. "Uh, I probably don't want to know what's going to happen next, do I?

The guard roared with laughter. "No, you don't. But I'll tell you anyway," he said, leaning in. "When we arrive at Taigus, you will be shipped to the surface and sold in the slave market. If you have a god, you better pray to him that there is a buyer for a one-eyed boy. Otherwise, you'll be ground up and used as food for the guard animals."

VIII.

"What do you mean you got rid of them?" an incredulous Lore asked.

"They're human," Eric explained. "When push came to shove, I didn't think they were going to let you actually blow up the Earth."

"Who said anything about blowing up Earth?" Lore replied.

Eric cocked an eyebrow as he looked at the older artificial life form. "Oh, come on now. I may not have your positronic net, but I didn't fall off the back of the transport yesterday. I've read the Starfleet files. I know all about you and the Crystal and your run-ins with _Enterprise_. You didn't steal the most lethal weapon in history and plan on hooking it up to the most powerful starship in the Federation so you could negotiate. You like causing havoc. You already have the Federation and Romulans on the verge of war. This could push things right over the edge. You'd have the Alpha Quadrant in turmoil."

Lore smirked. "Smart boy. So what do you want out of this?"

"I want to see what happens," Eric said. "And I want to be your new partner."

"How do I know I can trust you?" Lore asked. "You betrayed the man who created you."

Eric narrowed his eyes. "Like you wouldn't do that yourself?" he asked.

Lore seemed nonplussed. Then a bemused smile began to form on his face. "You really are a smart one. I like the way you think – protégé."

"Cool!" Eric said enthusiastically. "So what do we do next?"

"I think it's time for us to get ready to visit my dear brother and his friends …"

IX.

"Commander, sensors are detecting an escape pod off the starboard bow."

"Is it within tractor beam range?"

"Yes."

"Any life forms?"

"Two. They appear to be human."

"Excellent. Prepare to bring the pod on board. We'll sell the occupants when we get to Taigus."

X.

"Mr. Worf," Nechayev said, "please have Ms. Stoppable escorted to her quarters, have someone collect her weaponry, and post a guard."

"Is that really necessary, Admiral?" Picard asked.

"Yes, it is, Captain," Nechayev said as she turned her gaze back to Kim. "I underestimated you. When I came on board, I thought you were an average officer who received a posting to the Federation flagship because of family connections …"

Kim visibly bristled.

"… Don't look so offended, Ms. Stoppable. You would not be the first officer in the history of Starfleet to receive a choice assignment due to the achievements or influence of someone else. However, your performance in recent days has been nothing short of outstanding, and has given me cause to revise my opinion of you. I believe that you are one of the most talented and resourceful junior officers I have ever known. And it is those traits that lead me to fear that you may try to free Mr. Stoppable on your own. Given the Federation's current security situation, I cannot afford for you to attempt any Lone Ranger operations."

Kim drew on her martial arts training to control her breathing and restrain herself; she was sorely tempted to roundhouse the admiral through one of the lounge's great windows. Instead, she squared her shoulders and looked Nechayev squarely in the eyes.

Worf, wearing an expression that made clear he'd just been asked to do something truly disagreeable, pressed his comm badge. "Worf to Tanaka, please report to the Observation Lounge." The least he could do, he thought, was have one of Kim's friends accompany her back to her quarters.

After Yori arrived, Nechayev explained the situation to the security officer. When the admiral was done, Kim, looking impatient, turned to leave with her escort.

"Lieutenant Tanaka, one other thing," Nechayev said.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"When you collect Ms. Stoppable's sidearm and weapons, you are to take possession of the Sword of Kahless, which you will deliver to Mr. Worf."

"I don't think so," Kim snapped. "The Sword is Ron's personal property, and as his wife I'm responsible for its safekeeping. I won't let you or him," Kim said pointing at Fiske, "near it."

"I am not going to debate this with you, Ms. Stoppable."

"What part of 'you can't have it' don't you understand?" Kim said.

"Ms. Tanaka," Nechayev said, ignoring Kim, "if Ms. Stoppable does not voluntarily relinquish the blade, you are authorized to use whatever force necessary to retrieve it. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Yori answered, avoiding Kim's sulfurous gaze.

XI.

Yori walked silently down the corridor with her former roommate. The young security officer felt sympathy for Kim, who had now lost both her husband and career. Yori could not ignore the fact that she'd played a part in both of those developments. But while she felt for Kim, she did not regret what she had done, knowing that she owed a loyalty not only to her friend, but to her uniform and the Federation. And the more she considered matters, the more accepting she had become of what had transpired.

Two lives may have been ruined, Yori told herself, but the agreement with the Orionisi would safeguard the lives of tens of millions on scores of worlds. And that mission had to take precedence over the needs of any one individual, no matter how personally difficult that might be for her to accept. Yori now appreciated what Sensei had meant when he taught her that the course of honor was often a difficult road to travel.

Kim and Yori found that there were already two security officers posted by the door when they reached Kim's quarters. The young men, with whom Kim had previously worked, looked stoically ahead, avoiding eye contact with her. She wondered if that was because she was now a pariah for having resigned her commission and had become a security risk or because she was seen as a Jonah, a source of perceived bad luck – even in the twenty-fourth century people on board ships retained ancient superstitions, and losing a husband to slavers within a day of being married was anything but a sign of good fortune.

The door slid open and Kim, followed by Yori, entered.

Kim went to the bureau and retrieved her phaser, which she handed to Yori.

"I will also need your shuriken, Kim."

Kim shook her head. "Of course," she said acidly. "Would you also like my hair pins in case I try to poke someone to death?"

Yori cocked an eyebrow.

Kim sighed. "I know. You're just doing your job."

"Thank you for understanding," the young ninja said. "Now, I must ask you for the Sword."

Kim looked at the weapon, which was propped in a corner of the cabin. She walked over and hefted the blade, momentarily surprised when she thought she felt a gentle ripple of energy run through her hands. When Kim turned, she was surprised to find Yori pointing her own phaser at her.

"Overreacting much?" Kim said caustically.

"I think not. You are highly skilled in the use of Klingon weaponry. I am merely being prudent."

Kim again shook her head, then looked at the weapon in her hands. It had become so much a part of Ron's life – and by extension her own – in recent days. She was loath to surrender it. But she couldn't see how getting into a fight, maybe even being shot, would help her or Ron.

"Okay, you can take it," Kim said sourly. "But not until you get a portable stasis field for it."

"Why?"

"Because the Sword can affect you, Yori. Believe me, I know from experience," Kim answered before she explained what had transpired on board the Klingon battle cruiser. She wasn't interested in having Yori or someone else in security go berserk because they were handling the bat'leth.

"I see," Yori said as she looked at the weapon, which Kim had set down. She pressed her comm badge and called for delivery of a stasis container.

While they awaited delivery of the box, Yori held out her hand. In her palm was Kim's comm badge. "Even though you have resigned, I must ask you to wear this …"

Kim sighed. As long as she was wearing the device, she could be contacted – and tracked. Yori did not need to say that under current circumstances the alternative for Kim to wearing the badge was being locked up in the brig. Kim gritted her teeth, took the comm badge from Yori, and re-pinned it to her uniform.

Moments later, the stasis unit arrived. Kim carefully placed the Sword in the box, then allowed Yori to activate the storage field.

Her work done, Yori turned to leave with the box and guards. "It is to be regretted that matters have unfolded in this most unfortunate fashion."

"You think?" Kim asked sarcastically as her one-time colleague departed with the Sword.

XII.

Once Yori left, Kim quickly changed out of her duty uniform; the garment that had once been a source of great pride was now an object of scorn, and she had no desire to wear it. Wearing a loose-fitting black tunic and olive-green pants, she sat down cross-legged on the bunk and began to consider her options.

Kim felt she had to give Nechayev her props for knowing that she would find leaving Ron to his fate with the Orionisi wholly unacceptable. She understood Nechayev's strategic arguments, but was nonetheless angry with the admiral – saying she would work through channels to secure Ron's release was a bureaucrat's way of saying Ron was being thrown to the proverbial wolves. But Kim's anger with Nechayev paled in comparison with her disappointment in Picard. She had admired the man ever since, as a first-year cadet, she had first heard of his exploits. She had been thrilled to be invited to join the _Enterprise_ crew and serve under him. And the confidence he had show in her in recent days had been among the high points of her life. But when push came to shove, he, like Nechayev, had left Ron to the slavers, not even arguing with Nechayev about the possibility of staging a covert operation to save him. To Kim, that was unforgivable.

Kim knew she couldn't sit in her quarters and do nothing. If Starfleet wasn't going to rescue Ron, she would, even if she had to make her way to Taigus in an EVA suit. She began to think of the things she'd need to not only save her husband, but to get off _Enterprise_.

_Somehow_, she thought, _I have to get hold of a shuttlecraft. And weapons would be useful, too._ She wished she could retrieve the Sword, but was willing to leave that behind if it meant freeing Ron. She realized that in going after him she would be leaving a lot behind, including family and friends; she and Ron would have to become fugitives if she didn't want to find herself in the Starfleet penitentiary in New Zealand.

Kim knew she'd have to travel light. She'd take only what she could pack in a backpack and no more: a few articles of clothing for her and Ron, essential toiletries, some emergency rations, a holopicture of her and Ron, and her Pandaroo, a reminder of simpler times.

Kim also knew she'd need assistance if she were to succeed. Unfortunately, she didn't know if there was anyone on board she could rely upon; even if there were people she could trust, she couldn't communicate with them without being overheard – she was confident that security would be monitoring any communications to and from her quarters. Kim was frowning when she remembered there was one channel that was supposedly beyond Starfleet's reach. She took a deep breath, rose from the bed and went to the bureau. Wade Load was either going to help her – or he was going to tip off the authorities, ending her plans before they even got underway. There was only one way to find out. She picked up the Kimmunicator and pressed the red call button …

XIII.

The Orionisi gathered around the escape pod, their weapons poised, as one of their number opened the hatch.

"How are they?" another one of them inquired.

"They're in stasis. They seem to be fine," the first man replied. "Should I wake them?"

"Yes. Then we can take them to the hold with the other one."

The first man pressed some buttons to deactivate the energy fields surrounding the capsule's occupants.

Drakken and Shego stirred.

"Oy, my head," Shego groaned as she rubbed her temple.

Drakken, dazed, looked around in confusion. Then he noticed the men with weapons.

"Uh, Shego," he said nervously.

Shego ignored Drakken. "I cannot believe we were double-crossed by that synthodrone of yours. Didn't you program in some loyalty protocols?"

"Shego …"

"What?" she snapped.

Drakken gestured to the open hatch.

Shego looked at the weapons-toting Orionisi. "What do you think you're doing?" she growled.

"Get out. Now," the leader demanded.

"Do it, Doc," Shego said.

"Are you sure?" he asked, uncomfortable with the idea of turning himself over to a posse of gun-toting Orionisi slavers.

"Positive," she replied, unable to suppress a small grin.

Drakken reluctantly climbed out of the capsule, followed by Shego. The Orionisi continued to train their weapons on the duo. The leader allowed himself a moment to leer at Shego.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you …" Drakken cautioned.

"What are you –" the man said before being taken out by a brutal spin-kick to the jaw.

Shego dropped to the deck, grabbed the Orionisi's gun, and rolled. As she sprang back to her feet, she let off two shots with deadly accuracy, dropping two guards in the process. She discarded the weapon and powered up her hands, which distracted the remaining two men.

"Wanna play?" Shego asked. Before the two Orionisi could answer, she hurled two bolts of energy at them, knocking their weapons out of their hands. Then she let loose two more blasts, striking each of the men square in the chest.

Shego surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction.

"You're losing your edge, Shego," Drakken said.

Annoyed, she turned from looking at the five fallen Orionisi and glowered at her employer. "Watch it, Doctor D. You weren't exactly a big help here. And don't start going on about each of us doing our jobs, okay?"

Drakken, seeing the murderous expression on his henchwoman's face, laughed nervously. "Wouldn't think of it …" he replied to his still angry colleague. "Okay, I'll be quiet now."

"Good," Shego said just as the shuttle bay doors slid open and more Orionisi rushed in, weapons at the ready.

Shego dropped into a fighting stance, her hands aglow.

Shego and the Orionisi faced each other, neither making a move. Then the cluster of green-skinned men parted to let a female pass through.

The new arrival wore a bemused expression. "Well, well, if it isn't my favorite human."

"You want to call your boys off, Rayna?" Shego asked impatiently.

"Holster your weapons," Rayna said as she snapped her fingers. "Shego's an honorary member of the clan."

XIV.

"What up, Kim?" Wade asked as he took a sip of his drink.

"Wade, I've got a major problem and I need your help."

"A problem that Starfleet can't handle?" he asked, seeming pleased.

"Wade," Kim said, knowing this was the moment of truth. "Starfleet is the problem."

The young man's eyes grew wide. "What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath, then answered. "Here's the sitch …"

Wade listened intently to Kim's story. "You sure about doing this, Kim?"

"So sure, Wade. I don't have a choice. I have to save Ron. I won't be angry with you if you don't want to help; you barely know us. But please don't tell …"

"Hold on, Kim. Who said I wasn't going to help?" he asked as he took another sip of his drink. "I just want you to be sure you know what you're about to do."

"If I were still wearing a uniform, I think it would be called mutiny," Kim answered with a wry smile before her expression turned serious. "Wade, Ron and I have always had each other's back. There's no way I'm going to let him down now."

"You're going to need a ride," he said, making clear that he was ready to get to work.

"I've already thought of that. Can you access _Enterprise_'s computers through the Kimmunicator without being detected?"

"I don't see why not," he said as a light began to glow at the top of the unit. "Can you point this at a data access portal?"

Kim brought the Kimmunicator over to the workstation in her quarters and positioned the device. "It's all yours, Wade."

"Okay, now this will be difficult and could take some time, so please be … Okay, I'm in," he said triumphantly. "What next?"

"I need to know if you'll be able to access the control systems for the shuttle bay," she said with a furrowed brow. If she couldn't open the bay doors, she wouldn't be able to leave the ship.

"I don't see why not," he answered. He spent a few seconds typing, then smiled. "We're good to go. Just let me know when you're ready."

"Thanks, Wade. You rock."

"No problem. Do you need anything else?"

"Yes," Kim replied. "Here's what I'm planning on doing …"

XV.

Neither of the security guards expected the door to open since it was locked from the outside – and the lock supposedly employed an unbreakable encryption code. Their moment of surprise, brief as it was, gave Kim the opening she needed.

When the door whooshed open, the startled guards expected to see someone standing before them. They weren't prepared for Kim to roll out of the cabin beyond them, spring to her feet, and spin so she was facing the door – and their backs. In a matter of seconds, she grabbed the gun arm of the guard on the right and twisted, then surprised him with a Vulcan nerve pinch, which sent him crumpling to the floor. Before his partner had a chance to act, Kim pivoted on her left foot and drove the heel of her boot into his gut, doubling the man backwards into the bulkhead. As much as it pained Kim to do so, she quickly followed that up with a jab to the stomach and an uppercut to the chin, which succeeded in knocking out the stunned security officer. For good measure, she applied a nerve pinch to him, too.

Kim quickly pulled the two unconscious guards into the cabin. She relieved them of their phasers, which she put into her backpack. She shouldered on the straps, took what she suspected would be a final look around what she'd already come to think of as her and Ron's home, and then once again removed her comm badge, which she tossed onto the table.

Kim poked her head out into the corridor, determined that nobody was coming, and darted down the hall to the nearest Jefferies tube. She quickly pulled herself up into the access point and began her trip to the shuttle bay, knowing it would not be long before she was discovered missing.

XVI.

Picard sat in his command chair, his jaw clenched. Riker, as usual, was seated to his right, while Nechayev occupied the chair usually filled by Troi. Bonnie Rockwaller now sat by the admiral's side.

The bridge was unusually silent. The pings and beeps of the various systems were oppressive. Word of what had happened to Ron and Kim had spread through the ship with lighting speed. People were uneasy, and therefore not talkative. And while the crew knew that war beckoned with the Romulans and that Nechayev was a senior admiral, they were still surprised by Picard's decision to defer to her on this matter.

The captain was quite aware of the questions and doubts of his people. Picard knew that by failing to rescue Ron from the Orionisi and subjecting Kim to what amounted to house arrest he had expended a great deal of the moral capital he had accumulated with his crew over the years. That he had done so for so dubious a reason as preserving a pact with the Syndicate, an entity he found repellent, pained and angered him.

The silence suffocating the bridge was broken by the chirping of the comm link on Worf's console.

"Worf here."

"Sir, it's Gonzalez. Kim has escaped. And she's armed."

Bonnie, who looked up at Worf, was sure she detected a gleam of approval, even admiration, in the Klingon security chief's eyes.

Picard took a deep breath. As unhappy as he was with the situation, he knew what he had to do. "Mr. Worf, we can assume that Ms. Stoppable is heading for the shuttle bay. Locate her and intercept her."

"Yes, sir," the Klingon replied before he pressed his comm badge. "Lieutenants Tanaka and T'Vel, meet me at the shuttle bay as soon as possible."

Worf looked down at Bonnie. She could see his displeasure at having to carry out his orders.

XVII.

Kim was crawling along a secondary maintenance tube when the force field barriers were activated. No sooner had one gone up before her than another rose behind her. She was trapped.

"Spankin'," she groused. She pressed the call button on the Kimmunicator. "Wade, I've got a force field problem."

"Hold up the Kimmunicator so I can get a scan …"

Kim did as requested; the device emitted a red light.

"… Okay, are there any data ports or comm links where you are?"

Kim looked around and saw one. "Yes."

"We'll do what we did back in your quarters."

Kim pointed the Kimmunicator at the node and Wade established a link. Moments later the force fields winked out.

"They're down," Kim said, a touch of awe in her voice.

"Like there was ever a doubt," he said with a satisfied smile. "Just to be safe, I've disabled all of the internal force fields in the Jefferies tubes, and I've also taken the sleeping gas network off-line."

"You rock like an asteroid, Wade," Kim said. "Thanks." She ended the communication, then hooked the Kimmunicator back onto the utility belt she was wearing.

Kim knew that she was approaching the most difficult part of her mission: gaining entry to the shuttle bay. She decided against dropping directly into the hangar, sure that the Jefferies tube opening would be guarded by now. Instead, Kim decided that she'd emerge in a corridor near the entrance to the bay and go in through that door. That option allowed her to gain an advantage by doing the unexpected, though it also meant she might run into people. Kim knew she'd need to be prepared to stun anyone who got in her way. She would have to count on the element of surprise giving her precious seconds that would allow her to maintain the initiative.

Kim, reaching her exit point, once again contacted Wade. "Can you tell me if there's anyone in the corridor this tube lets out onto or outside the entrance to the shuttle bay?"

"The coast is clear for now. I'm detecting no life signs near the tube exit. But there are guards posted at the entrance to the shuttle bay."

"How many?"

"Two."

"Got it," she said. "Okay, I'm going in."

"Good luck, Kim," Wade said.

"Thanks," she replied.

Kim turned off the device, slid down the tube exit and landed gracefully in the fortunately empty corridor. She quietly made her way to the juncture where the corridor she was in met the corridor leading to the shuttle bay. Once there, she spun around the corner with her phaser aimed. The two guards looked at her, but not for long. With two perfectly aimed shots, Kim easily dropped them.

She contacted Wade, who was able to use the Kimmunicator to override the lock on the bay door, then rolled into the hangar just as she'd rolled out of her quarters. She came up with her phaser in hand. She saw a guard and took him out, then another. She could see the shuttle she wanted just ahead.

It was no more than fifteen meters away. She looked to her left and her right, then sprinted towards the spacecraft.

Then Worf, who had concealed himself behind the shuttle, appeared, his phaser ready to be used.

"Drop your weapon and put your hands on your head," he ordered.

"I don't think so, Worf," Kim replied. "Now get out of my way or I'll have to shoot you. Ron needs me and I'm going to help him."

"If you truly wish to help him, then you must trust the captain," the Klingon said. "You know he will do everything he can to retrieve Ron."

"Worf, right now I trust the captain to help Ron as much as I trust Nechayev or Fiske. It's obvious that I'm the only one on board this ship who cares what happens to Ron."

"That is not true," he growled. "You forget – I am a member of his House."

Kim snorted. "So you're trying to stop me why? Shouldn't you be helping me?"

"You are brave and spirited. But what you are planning to do is foolishness," he snapped.

"I'd rather be a fool trying to save the man I love than a coward who hides behind orders and abandons his friend," Kim retorted.

Worf's eyes flashed. "If you were any other person I would kill you where you stand."

"Get out of my way. Now," she demanded, her voice filled with a cold fury, before her eyes widened in response to the unexpected surge of energy that coursed through her body.

Focused on Worf and the shuttle, Kim had not seen Yori quietly and stealthily crawling along the gangway above and behind her. Once Yori found a spot with a clear, unimpeded line of sight, she took aim at Kim's back and discharged her phaser, scoring a direct hit, watching in silence as her target crumpled to the shuttle bay's cold deck.

_TBC …_


	23. Chapter 23

Thanks to paulo-j1983, captainkodak1, whitem, Uru Baen, Commander Argus, campy, Yuri Sisteble, CajunBear73, spectre666, IncrediRaider8, Whisper from the Shadows, Nightwing 509, daywalkr82, Jason Barnett, Zaratan, Classic Cowboy, RealityBreakGirl, TexasDad, zeerak, AtomicFire, Angus Hardie, Matri, Michael Cross, surforst, JPMod, Taechunsa, conan98002, Ezbok58a, Molloy, Brother to Vorlons, Visigoth29527, Kim's 1 fan, Ultimaclock, and Slyfer for reviewing and to everyone for reading!

As always, special thanks to campy for his beta and proof work.

Leave a review, get a response. Seriously.

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; if you saw it on _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I. 

_I'd rather be a fool trying to save the man I love than a coward who hides behind orders and abandons his friend._

Her words stung him, tore at his very being.

Kim Stoppable had called him a coward!

Worf, son of Mogh, was a Klingon Warrior. He was not a coward. He had always been true to his friends, to his crewmates, and to his House.

To Worf, one's commitment to one's House was a matter of honor. Now he was a member of two Houses, owing his loyalty to both the House of Mogh and to the House of Stoppable. It did not matter that the former was known as the 'Traitor's House' and the latter had been disavowed by Gowron. They were his Houses, and his honor, his name, was inextricably tied to them.

Yet he had allowed Kim Stoppable, the Mistress of one of those Houses, to be ambushed. He may not have been the one to fire the phaser; it was, after all, Yori who shot Kim in the back. But it was he, Worf, who had drawn Kim into the trap and allowed her to be taken down like an unsuspecting targ. _He_ had been in charge of the operation. _He_ was the one who denied her a chance to fight like a true warrior.

Kim was wrong. He was not a coward. He was a traitor.

Worf, son of Mogh, was a man without honor.

True, he had in all likelihood saved her life, or at least her freedom: one of _Enterprise_'s shuttlecraft would have been no match for an Orionisi marauder; the small vessel would quickly have been overwhelmed by the Syndicate ship's firepower, and Kim's rescue attempt would have ended in total failure with her either dead or put up for sale in an Orionisi slave market and Ron still Rayna's captive.

But that was not what Kim, now under guard in the brig, would think of when she thought of him. Instead, she would think of Worf as the man who had betrayed her and her husband, who had turned his back on his adopted House when ordered to do so by superiors who prized expediency over all else.

Worf felt the bile rising in his throat.

He felt as if his soul was irredeemably stained and soiled. He knew there was only one way to regain his lost honor. At the very least, it would require him to give up his career in Starfleet. But it would be better to surrender his commission, indeed, even his life, than his good name.

Knowing he would have to act quickly, he set aside his brooding and sprang into action.

II.

"I wish to see the Sword," Fiske said to Picard.

"No," the captain said firmly.

"What do you mean?" Fiske replied, taken aback.

"Ambassador, I believe the Sword should have been left in Ms. Stoppable's care. I only impounded it because I received a direct order from my commanding officer. However, as long as the Sword is in my custody, I, as Arbiter of Succession, will allow no one, including you, access to it without Ms. Stoppable's authorization. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, Captain," Fiske replied, barely able to hide his fury.

Picard watched as the diplomat turned and left his ready room. The captain, convinced that the English aristocrat was possibly the single least trustworthy man he had ever encountered, concluded it would be wise to have a security officer physically stand guard over the Sword at all times, even though the weapon was already in a secure storage locker. He couldn't say why, but Jean-Luc Picard had concluded that under no circumstances could Lord Montgomery Fiske be allowed to come into possession of the Sword of Kahless.

III.

"Chief, may I speak to you?"

Miles O'Brien turned to see the imposing figure of _Enterprise_'s security chief. "Of course, Lieutenant," he answered in his genial brogue. "What's on your mind?"

"Kim and Ron Stoppable," Worf answered.

A dark look formed on Miles' face. "I heard what happened, Worf. They're a couple of good kids. They didn't deserve that. Either of them."

"I agree," the Klingon said, unable to ignore the slightly accusatory tone with which O'Brien spoke.

"Then, and I'm asking this as one friend to another, why did you stop her?" O'Brien countered.

Word of Kim's escape and attempt to commandeer a shuttle had spread through the ship even faster than word of Ron's abduction or Kim's resignation. Everyone on board knew of Worf and Yori's role in bringing the incident to a close.

"Because," Worf replied, "she would have failed. And, I am ashamed to admit, because the captain ordered me to do so, and I did not challenge him. I plan, however, to make amends."

"Oh," O'Brien asked. "How?"

"I must first ask for you to swear on your honor that you will not divulge a word of what I am about to say to you."

Miles O'Brien looked at the cold, hard gleam in the Klingon's eyes. He knew that if he made such a promise and later betrayed it, he would be facing Worf's wrath. It would be far easier to end the conversation now. But O'Brien didn't want to. While he didn't know Kim all that well, he had always liked her. And though he had only known Ron for less than two weeks, he had come to see the odd young man as a friend – and Miles O'Brien never, ever turned his back on a friend in need. "Okay, Worf, you've got my word. What are you planning?"

Worf described his intentions. O'Brien rubbed his chin as he considered what he had just been told. What the Klingon was suggesting would surely end all of their careers. But that seemed a small price to pay to secure Ron's freedom and redeem Kim's sacrifice.

"We can do that," O'Brien said, "but we're going to need another set of hands to pull this off. And I think I know just the person to help us."

IV.

The great hall was suffused with a gloomy light given off by sputtering fires in rough-hewn braziers. What furniture there was was made of wood and was rude. The walls, formed from large, unpolished stones, were neither decorated nor adorned and reached up into an impenetrable darkness that concealed the ceiling. It was the most imposing space Kim had ever seen.

Kim, however, had no idea where she was. One moment she had been confronting Worf, the next she was … here. Wherever 'here' was.

She found herself sprawled on a bare, flagstone floor, still wearing her olive-colored trousers and black tunic.

"You are seeking something," a voice filled with authority said.

She looked up and found herself facing an imposing Klingon male.

"Where am I?" she asked as she gingerly rose to her feet.

"You are in _Sto-Vo-Kor_," the man answered.

"The Klingon Afterworld," Kim whispered. "I'm dead?"

The Klingon smiled. "No, you are not dead, Kim Stoppable, though I have been for many centuries."

"You know my name," she said. "Wait. This is so not possible."

"I thought anything was possible for a Possible," the man said, sharing a wry smile with Kim.

Her eyes opened wide at the stranger's use of her family's unofficial motto – and at her recognition of who it was she was speaking with. "You cannot be Kahless."

"But I can," he said reasonably. "And I am."

"Look, I don't have time for this," she replied impatiently. "I –"

"Have to rescue your mate," the Klingon interjected. "Yes, I know. But right now you are unconscious. Do you not remember?"

"I was talking with Worf, then I felt the phaser blast … so I'm having a dream," Kim said. "A ferociously weird dream."

"Perhaps," the Klingon said knowingly. "That is how some have described having visions. You may wish to think of it that way. But humor me, and set aside your doubts. Pretend that I am indeed Kahless the Unforgettable for a moment and listen to what I have to say."

Kim looked around the great chamber, then brushed some stray locks of hair off of her face. "Okay," she said, unable to hide her skepticism. "Sitch me."

"You must protect the Sword," Kahless declared.

"Gee, thanks," Kim said sarcastically. "Too bad you're just a little bit late with that tip," she added in frustration. "They've already taken it away."

"You are wrong. It is not too late," Kahless asserted. "You can – you must – prevent it from falling into the hands of its enemies."

"And just how am I going to do that?" she asked tartly. "I have to assume that when I wake up I'm going to be in the brig."

"The Sword and its bearer have more friends than you imagine. They will present themselves at the right time. And you must remember: You can do anything."

Kim folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow. She was convinced that Kahless was a manifestation of her sub-conscious – which was in the midst of very rudely mocking her. "I so wish," she finally said softly.

Kim turned from the Klingon emperor and looked away, the futility of her situation beginning to overwhelm her. She had never thought of herself as one to give up, but now she didn't know what to do. She'd tried. And she failed. Because of her, Ron was horribly disfigured and condemned to spend the rest of his life as someone's slave.

"Do not doubt yourself," Kahless said sternly.

Kim spun back to Kahless, her eyes brimming with tears. "You don't get it, do you? It's over."

"That is not true, Kim Stoppable. You are a great warrior. You must believe in yourself."

"Why?" she spat back. "I got nuthin'."

"You have the confidence of your mate," Kahless countered. "He believes in you."

"And I let him down," Kim said.

"No, you have not," the Klingon demurred. "You will only let him down if you give up. Ron Stoppable believes in you. He is the Chosen One and you are his Consort. Your strength is his strength and his strength is your strength. Together you can do anything. Remember, there are always … possibilities."

A smoky haze began to fill the hall, slowly enveloping Kahless, who now stood mutely before Kim. The great warrior gradually faded from view. Then everything went black.

When Kim opened her eyes again she was exactly where she told the fabled Klingon leader she would be: in _Enterprise_'s brig. She looked around, but couldn't shake the feeling that moments ago she really had been somewhere else.

V.

Rufus emerged from his network of running tubes to find Worf and O'Brien waiting for him. He ended the simulation, returning the holodeck to its default configuration.

"Mr. Worf, Mr. O'Brien, how may I be of assistance?" the naked mole rat asked as he took a towel and dried himself off.

"We need to discuss a matter of utmost importance with you: Kim and Ron Stoppable," Worf answered.

O'Brien tried not to betray his surprise at just how much alike the two men sounded.

Rufus looked at Worf through narrowed eyes. "The only thing to discuss is how the grave injustice that has been done to them can be undone."

Worf glanced at O'Brien, then allowed himself a smile. "It is good to hear you say that," the Klingon said, "for that is why we are here …"

VI.

The door to the brig slid open; Fiske entered, followed by Yori.

"Great," Kim said acerbically as she looked at her erstwhile roommate. "You really have gone over to the dark side."

"I am merely doing my duty," the security officer noted. "You know that a civilian may not come to the brig unescorted."

"Right," Kim said with a quarter roll of the eyes before looking at Fiske. "What do you want?" she demanded of the Englishman.

"I wish to see the Sword of Kahless," he said. "Picard refuses to grant me access. You can order him to let me see it."

"And I'd do that why?" Kim asked pointedly.

"Because you want to have your sentence reduced," Fiske said. "You do realize that you will, at the very least, be charged with, and given the number of witnesses, convicted of, assault and battery, theft of Starfleet weaponry, grand theft spacecraft, and, most seriously, intent to suborn diplomatic relations?"

"So not the drama," Kim said, refusing to be intimidated or bullied by Fiske. "I've always wanted to live in New Zealand."

"Jest if you wish, Ms. Stoppable," he replied with a predatory grin. "But while you may not care about your own freedom, I know you are very concerned with that of your husband. You would not want him to be in Orionisi custody for too long. I have heard that the effects of extended exposure to the pheromones of the Orionisi female are irreversible. It would be most unfortunate if he were to return, only for you to find that he only wished to go back to his mistress, Rayna …"

Kim's cavalier defiance was instantly replaced by white-hot rage. She balled her hands into fists and bared her teeth at Fiske. "Why you …"

"So, may I see the Sword?" he said nonchalantly.

Kim was about to agree to Fiske's request when the image of Kahless came to mind. Her dream had all seemed so real. And she didn't need a vision to know that Montgomery Fiske was an enemy of the Sword and its bearer; Ron's words, which she herself had repeated, echoed in her memory: his lordship was 500 light years of bad road.

"No," she forced herself to say. As much as she wanted to free Ron, she knew she couldn't afford to accommodate Fiske – who, she suspected, would offer no assistance to her, even if she agreed. "You may not."

"So be it, Ms. Stoppable," the ambassador said. "I hope you are prepared to live with the consequences of your stubbornness."

VII.

A short while later, the door to the brig slid open again.

Kim looked up and saw Worf enter. She watched as he approached the security guard. "I must speak in private with Ms. Stoppable. Leave us."

The young officer looked at his division head, nodded, and left the brig.

Worf walked to the control console and entered a series of commands. Much to Kim's surprise, the force field that confined her to her cell winked out.

"Okay, what's going on?" Kim asked, completely surprised by what was happening.

"There is not much time," Worf replied. "You must come with me. Now."

"And I should trust you why?" she asked, still remembering how the Klingon had set her up to be shot.

"Because you wish to save Ron. My actions from before to the contrary, I am loyal to his House. Now we must go. Are you with me?"

Kim took a deep breath. She was still angry about what had happened in the shuttle bay, but Worf seemed sincere and he looked contrite. She also knew she had no other choice.

She looked him in the eye and said, "I'm in."

"Good," he replied, pressing his comm badge. "Worf to O'Brien. I have taken the brig's dampening field off-line. You may begin transport."

VIII.

"Come," Picard said as he reviewed some personnel files. Among the decisions he realized he would have to make was whether he would appoint a permanent helmsman to succeed Kim.

"Captain."

"Counselor," he said evenly after looking up to see Deanna Troi. "How may I help you?"

"I came to ask you the same question," she said, standing before his desk.

Picard looked at Troi for a long moment before he gestured for her to sit down. After she took her seat, he continued to look at her in silence. Finally, he spoke.

"In all my years in Starfleet, I have never felt more uncomfortable about decisions I have made than I do today. The Stoppables, this security pact, everything just seems profoundly wrong," he said.

"You wish you could do otherwise." Deanna offered that as a statement, not a question.

"Yes," Picard said. "And if we weren't facing the very real prospect of war with the Romulans, I would have done so without hesitation. But to provoke possible hostilities with the Syndicate under these circumstances …"

"You believe they are nothing more than criminals and you don't expect them to keep their side of the bargain, do you? You believe that Ron's freedom and Kim's career have been sacrificed for nothing."

"Yes," he said.

"You are also worried about the crew's morale, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Picard admitted. "Counselor, I am acutely aware of the lengths to which _Enterprise_ and her crew went to save me from the Borg. I would be highly surprised if people weren't asking why it was appropriate for Commander Riker to risk this ship and all aboard to retrieve me, but it is not acceptable for me to at least let Ensign Stoppable take a shuttlecraft to try to free her husband."

"Do you think she could have succeeded?" Troi asked.

"No. Not in a shuttlecraft; it would have been no match for an Orionisi marauder. But there was another option available."

"I see," Deanna said. "Sir, it sounds as if you will not be able to live with yourself if you don't explore –"

The captain's comm badge chirped. "Picard here."

"Sir, I am sorry to disturb you," Data said, "But I have just received word from the brig that Ms. Stoppable has gone missing …"

Picard noted with interest that Data didn't use the word 'escape' to describe Kim's unauthorized absence.

"… And that it would appear she has done so with the assistance of Mr. Worf."

IX.

"What's going on?" Kim asked after the materialization process ended.

"Welcome aboard _Calypso_," Rufus said.

"_Calypso_? The captain's yacht?" Kim asked incredulously. "I assumed when you came to get me, we were going to rescue Ron, not take a solar cruise!"

"Captain Picard has had us make some … modifications … to the vessel that will make her appropriate for our mission," Worf explained before he hit his comm badge. "Worf to O'Brien."

"O'Brien here."

"We are on board."

"Okay, sir. I have reinstated the dampeners and force fields in the brig and am now taking transporters off-line."

"Thank you," Worf said.

"You're welcome," O'Brien replied. "Kim?" he asked.

"Yes?" she responded.

"Good luck. And tell Ron I'm looking forward to buying him another drink and a new belt when he returns."

Kim smiled, still not sure of what was going on, but filled with a resurgent confidence and hope. "I will, Chief. You rock."

"I try, I think," he answered, not sure what Kim meant. He assumed from her tone of voice that it was something good. Smiling, he said, "O'Brien out."

X.

The decision to equip each _Galaxy_-class starship with a captain's yacht had been controversial. There were those who thought such craft contravened the egalitarian principles that supposedly defined the age. But others felt that _Galaxy_-class ships were physical embodiments of the Federation's influence and that the yachts would be a useful way to project the power and prestige of the great ships' captains, who were not only commanders of their vessels but de facto ambassadors-at-large for their government throughout the Alpha Quadrant.

Picard was among those who thought the yachts were unnecessary. In fact, he actually thought them to be absolutely preposterous. He already had a huge cabin and a comfortable ready room, an allocation of space that on a ship even of _Enterprise_'s scale was generous, even profligate, and fully capable of conveying the captain's importance. A space-borne luxury lounge was something Picard felt he really didn't need and was uncomfortable using.

And so, Picard let the luxurious vessel sit idle for many months. But then he began to wonder if the sleek spacecraft might be put to other uses, and conferred with Worf about the possibility of adapting the small ship to other, more dangerous purposes. Worf agreed that _Calypso_ had great potential, but that it would need engineering and propulsion upgrades in addition to weapons.

A proposal was developed and presented to none other than Alynna Nechayev, who, like Picard, had scorned the idea of captain's yachts. She readily gave her approval to the project, but insisted that Picard keep the conversion secret, believing a covert, concealed strike craft could be a very valuable asset to the Federation. As a result, knowledge of what was being done to _Calypso_ was limited to a very small circle of people on board _Enterprise_: Picard, Riker, Worf, La Forge, O'Brien, and four engineers.

The team had worked quietly, outfitting _Calypso_ with state-of-the-art weaponry including the most advanced phasers and a full complement of photon torpedoes, upgraded warp engines that would allow the small ship to travel at speeds as high as warp 9.7, and robust deflector shields and reinforced hull plating.

Fortunately for Kim, the refitted ship had recently become operational.

XI.

Picard strode out onto the bridge.

"Status report, Mr. Data," he demanded.

"According to Mr. Hernandez, Lieutenant Worf entered the brig approximately ten minutes ago and asked him to leave so he could talk privately with Ms. Stoppable. When he returned to the brig, Mr. Worf and Ms. Stoppable were both gone, though the barrier to her cell was still in place and the transporter dampeners were on-line."

Picard pursed his lips. He was confident that Worf had helped free Kim. And he was sure he knew where Kim and Worf were. Picard was very much disposed to let them go without question or hindrance. Unfortunately, Nechayev was on the bridge and had arrived at conclusions similar to Picard's

"Captain," she said.

Picard turned and looked at her. "Yes, Admiral?"

"_Calypso_ is operational, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is."

"Then that's where they are, don't you think?" she asked in a challenging tone. "I know that's where I would go if I were Mr. Worf and I was going to help Ms. Stoppable launch a raid on Taigus VIII."

Picard knew he was cornered. "I agree." He sighed quietly. "Mr. Data, put me through to –"

"Sir, _Calypso_ has initiated undocking."

Nechayev did not wait for Picard to issue an order. "Mr. Data," she commanded. "Abort undocking now."

Data examined his controls. "I am sorry, Admiral, but that will not be possible. Bridge control has been locked out. _Calypso_ is now free."

"Use the tractor beam," she said.

"Tractor beam has been engaged … and we are being hailed by _Calypso_."

"Put them on screen, Mr. Data."

Kim's larger-than-life image appeared on the view screen.

"Ms. Stoppable," Picard said, a hint of warmth in his voice. "I see _Calypso_ is about to undergo her space trials."

Kim was at first surprised by Picard's friendly demeanor; then she recalled the dream/vision-Kahless' words: the Sword had many friends.

"Sir," she replied politely, "turn off your tractor beam, please and thank you. I'm in a bit of a hurry, and I'd really rather not have to launch a photon torpedo at _Enterprise_."

"Sir," Data said, "_Calypso_'s weapons are on-line and locked on the primary hull."

Much to Nechayev's annoyance, Riker was unable to suppress a grin. "She's good, sir," the first officer said. "_Calypso_'s within the deflector shield envelope. A torpedo blast would cause severe damage. We'd be in spacedock for months."

"Assuming, Number One, that we could make our way to one," Picard observed. "Mr. Data, disengage the tractor beam."

"Captain, what do you think you're doing?" Nechayev demanded.

"Protecting _Enterprise_. It is clear that Ms. Stoppable is prepared to deploy her weapons. Starfleet cannot afford to lose a _Galaxy_-class starship on the eve of potential hostilities with the Romulans."

Nechayev glared at Picard, knowing she'd lost the argument for the moment.

Picard turned back to the viewscreen and Kim's image, allowing himself a smile. "I would usually not say this to someone who has just committed an act of piracy, Ms. Stoppable. But well done, and good luck."

Kim looked at her former commanding officer and recognized what he had just done. In all likelihood, he had just joined Worf, O'Brien, and Rufus in sacrificing his career for Ron and her. And while Kim wasn't ready to forget what he had done earlier, she was ready to begin forgiving him.

"Thank you, sir. We'll see you at the Neutral Zone."

"Oh?" he asked.

"You bet," Kim replied impishly. "If the Federation is really going to war, you'll need every available ship. After we get Ron back, we'll come help you kick some Romulan biscuit."

"Thank you … Captain," he said. "_Enterprise_ out."

XII.

"Captain Picard, why are we holding station?" Nechayev asked.

"I beg your pardon, Admiral?" he asked.

"You heard me," she said sharply. "Why haven't you ordered _Enterprise_ to pursue _Calypso_?"

"Because, Admiral, I have direct orders from Starfleet Command to proceed directly to the Romulan Neutral Zone. I thought we agreed that we would wait until the designated rendezvous time for Lieutenants Du and Carter to return before departing."

"Captain," Nechayev said pointedly. "I am ordering you to go after that ship."

"I must respectfully decline, Admiral," Picard responded.

"You wanted her to do this, didn't you?" Nechayev retorted. "You do realize that you are endangering the security of the Federation?"

"Admiral, I am doing no such thing," Picard answered. "Ms. Stoppable helped me realize that by acquiescing to Ambassador Fiske's little deal, we endangered not only the security of the Federation but its very soul. I can no longer be a party to this travesty. The Syndicate is built on deceit and lies and has proven itself untrustworthy again and again. It is my fervent hope that Ms. Stoppable is successful in freeing her husband. Now, if you wish, you may relieve me of my command."

Nechayev stared at Picard, who was standing ramrod straight before her. She arched an eyebrow and offered a small, wry smile. "No, Captain, I won't do that. I know your crew all too well. If I relieve you, I will find myself repeating this scene with Mr. Riker, who will refuse my order …"

The first officer nodded, confirming the admiral's suspicions.

"… Then it will be Mr. Data, and so on. I don't feel a need to precipitate a full-scale mutiny." She shook her head, then said quietly, "Besides, you are right."

"Admiral?" Picard said.

"You heard me, Captain," Nechayev answered, thinking of what Picard had just said, and remembering an idealistic young woman who more than five decades earlier would step out into the cold Russian night to look at the stars and dream of high adventure and doing good in outer space. "You were right. I just hope Kim Stoppable is every bit as good as we think she is."

XIII.

"How long to Taigus VIII?" Kim asked.

"If we maintain our current speed of Warp 9.5, we should be there in two hours, twelve minutes," Rufus replied.

"Spankin'," Kim replied. "However, as much as I want to get there as soon as possible, we should drop down to low warp before we approach the system; they don't need to know what _Calypso_ is capable of."

"I agree," Worf said before returning to a review of the weapons console. "All weapons systems are fully operational."

"Just how many weapons systems does _Calypso_ have?" Kim asked.

"Enough that I would be comfortable taking this ship into battle against a Klingon Bird of Prey," Worf answered.

Kim whistled. "And you did this all in secret?"

"Yes," Worf said. "Admiral Nechayev insisted on it."

"Why am I not surprised?" Kim deadpanned. She shook her head, then turned to Rufus. "So why are you here? Not that I'm not glad and all, but …"

Rufus looked Kim square in the eye. "Ron is my friend. You are his mate. You were in trouble."

"That's it?" Kim asked.

The naked mole rat arched an eyebrow. "Need there be any more reason to act?"

"You're amazing, Rufus," Kim said. "You too, Worf." Chagrined, she added, "Sorry about what I said in the shuttle bay."

"Thank you. But it needed to be said. And I must still ask you for your forgiveness."

"It's no big, Worf. Forget it," Kim said, smiling at the Klingon. Given what he'd just done for Ron and her, and the way he'd helped the two of them come together as a couple, she was more than willing to overlook the fact that he had feet of clay; it only meant he was mortal. To Kim, what truly mattered was that when she and Ron really needed Worf's help, he had come through.

"Kim," Rufus said. "There is one other weapon aboard _Calypso_ you need to be aware of."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. The naked mole rat headed aft, and moments later returned with a portable stasis chamber. "I believe this belongs to you."

Kim's eyes opened wide; then she hugged the startled naked mole rat. "Rufus, thanks. You rock," she said. "I don't know how I can make this up to you."

"I believe that a selection of artisanal cheeses, and perhaps some peanut butter cookies, would be in order."

XIV.

Lieutenant Yori Tanaka took up her position guarding the secure storage locker in which the Sword of Kahless was purportedly being stored, not knowing that a very resourceful naked mole rat had already switched out the portable stasis chamber containing the Klingon weapon.

XV.

"So, Shego," Rayna said disdainfully. "What brings you to this corner of space?"

"You're loving this, aren't you?" Shego retorted.

The two green-hued, raven-haired women sat in Rayna's spacious quarters, sharing a bottle of Romulan ale.

Rayna grinned. "Well, if you must know, yes, I am. Someone has finally outwitted the master criminal!"

"Hey, he was smart," Shego said defensively.

"How smart?" Rayna asked mockingly.

"He was a walking computer …" Shego said as she scowled.

Rayna cast an intrigued glance at her guest; she knew the human was very smart herself.

"… He had a positronic net for a brain, okay? I was played by an android with Einstein's IQ and Al Capone's 'tude." Shego then explained what had happened (she also told a puzzled Rayna who Einstein and Capone were; Rayna was intrigued and decided she'd have to learn more about the twentieth-century crime figure).

The Orionisi diplomat was fascinated by what Shego had told her. If Lore did as he intended, the Syndicate would be able to profit mightily from the ensuing mayhem. Rayna had no interest in being neighbors with a Federation that had been conquered by the Romulans; but she was more than interested in being neighbors with a Federation that was engulfed in chaos. Starfleet would eventually restore order, but not before the Syndicate had a chance to enrich itself beyond anyone's wildest imagination. "Do you think he's actually going to try to hijack _Enterprise_?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Shego answered. "Though Drakken's syntho-boy turned on us and there's no reason he won't turn on Lore. And Lore still has to figure out how to hotwire the PDVI into _Enterprise_'s systems …"

XVI.

"We will rendezvous with _Enterprise_ in thirty minutes," Will Du reported to Lore.

"Excellent," the android said. "Looks like it's time to tidy things up," he said to himself as he pulled out a small communications device. He activated the unit, then spoke a series of commands that were radioed across space.

XVII.

Ron was roughly grabbed by the arm and pulled from his cage. He was marched by an armed escort to the Marauder's transporter room. There, he and three Orionisi slavers transported to the surface.

When they materialized on Taigus, Ron's pants, as was their wont after an encounter with a transporter, promptly fell to his ankles, sparking raucous, cruel laughter from his captors. They tripped him, then yanked his trousers off, leaving him in just his boxers. Then they grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet.

As they did this, one of the men saw Ron's wedding band. He grabbed Ron's hand and began to pull the ring off his finger.

"Hey! You can't have that!" Ron protested.

The Orionisi sneered at him. "It's not as if you need it anymore; slaves don't need jewelry."

"It's not jewelry," Ron snapped. "It's my wedding ring."

The man laughed. "Wedding ring? You are no longer married, human! You are a slave, a thing, a piece of property. You cannot be married."

Ron began thrashing and kicking. He was not going to let these bullies take the last physical reminder he had of Kim. Somehow, he managed to place a kick between the legs of the man trying to steal his ring. The slaver howled as he collapsed to his knees.

Ron's moment of triumph, however, was short-lived. Another of the Orionisi used a control device to activate the pain inducer on Ron's neck. He watched as Ron flailed and screamed.

After a few moments, the slaver stopped. Then he and his companions took turns hitting and kicking Ron, who, battered and bruised, curled up into a fetal position to protect himself.

Unfortunately for Ron, there was no escape from his captors' abuse. The party's leader once again activated the pain inducer; this time, however, he didn't release the button until Ron had lost consciousness.

The men dragged Ron from the transporter room and brought him to the holding pens. Before they tossed him in, the man Ron had kicked made sure to take his ring.

XVIII.

Eric was surprised when Stan and Ollie came up from behind and seized him. "Hey, what are you doing?" he demanded.

Neither synthodrone spoke. Instead, _Drak Force One_'s main viewscreen came to life.

"Hello, Eric," Lore said menacingly.

"Lore?" he asked, confused. "What's going on?"

"I have to commend you," the android said with a smile. "You showed so much promise. So much ruthlessness in the way you got rid of Drakken and Shego. I was most impressed."

"Thanks," Synthodrone 901 replied uncertainly.

"In fact, you showed too much promise," Lore explained, his mirthful tone replaced by something cold and dismissive. "If you could betray them, why not me?"

Eric's eyes opened wide. "But I wouldn't do that!"

"No, I'm sure you wouldn't," Lore said evenly. "But I can't take any chances now, can I? I've got a planet to obliterate, and I don't need any distractions."

Stan reached into his tunic and removed a laser scalpel. He powered up the surgeon's device. He then pressed the glowing red tip of the tool against Eric's side, causing the synthodrone to yelp.

"Goodbye, Eric," Lore said jauntily. "It's been a blast!"

Eric wailed plaintively as his synthetic insides began to rush out of his ruptured side.

XIX.

After concluding her meeting with Rayna, Shego, with a despondent Drakken in tow, beamed down to the surface of Taigus VIII.

Though Shego wasn't sure where she next wanted to go or what she next wanted to do, she wasn't interested in remaining with Rayna, who was planning on returning to the Orionisi homeworld. Shego liked her room, and that would be sorely lacking on Orion, where the Syndicate kept a close eye on everyone and everything. Taigus, however, offered Shego the opportunity to tend to her contacts in the slaver community, business contacts she suspected she'd need as she tried to recover from Drakken's latest debacle.

XX.

"Go, Wade," Kim said.

"Do you have anything of Ron's, even a hair? If you do, I can map his genome and include the data in a biogenetic detection program that I've just completed and want to download to the Kimmunicator; you should be able to scan for Ron's DNA from as far away as 100 kilometers."

"That's incredible," Kim said, excited by Wade's unexpected news. "Hold on," she said. "Let me check."

Kim opened her backpack and rummaged through its contents until she found Ron's toiletries pouch. Much to her relief, she found strands of hair tangled in the teeth of his comb. "We've got hair, Wade. What's next?"

"Put them on the scanner," he said as a small paten with a translucent silver disk in its center emerged from the Kimmunicator. Kim complied and watched as the small panel began to glow. "Got it. You're good to go. You can now search for Ron. You can use the Kimmunicator or, if you want, plug this into a data port and you can use _Calypso_'s sensors."

"Wade, remember those autographed schematics I owe you?" Kim asked.

"Sure. No rush," he said, taking a sip of his ever-present drink.

"Remind me to ask Dad to give them to you when he gives you a personal tour of Utopia Planitia," she said.

"Thanks, Kim, but that's really not necessary," Wade responded.

"It is so necessary," she countered.

"No, really, it's not," he said before he shifted uneasily in his chair. "You see, I don't really like to leave my room. I'm kind of agoraphobic …" he explained sheepishly. Then he brightened. "Hey, maybe I could send my Wadebot, version 6.0!"

XXI.

"Do you two boy scouts remember what you're supposed to do once we're on board _Enterprise_?" Lore asked.

"Yes, Lore," Will Du and Tom Carter said in unison. The two men repeated their instructions.

"Just checking," the android said. "Now remember, boys, time is of the essence, so move quickly. Got it?"

"Yes, Lore," the two mind-controlled officers replied.

As far as Lore was concerned, anything the two men could do for him at this point was a bonus. Will Du had already provided him with all of the secret codes and protocols available to a Section 31 agent. Indeed, Lore suspected that he on his own could do what he intended for Carter and Du to do. However, there was something elegant to his mind about having genuine Starfleet officers help him commandeer the Federation flagship, which they were now approaching.

The shuttle received clearance to land. The great door slid open and the small ship glided through the force field into the bay. The android grinned as the craft gently touched down.

Will Du and Tom Carter emerged from the shuttle, looked around, waved at the officer in the control booth and left the hangar. A few minutes later, Lore, wearing a uniform identical to his brother's, slipped out of the craft and snuck out of the bay undetected.

Lore made his way to the battle bridge to wait for events to unfold. He was looking forward, as Doctor Drakken had once said, to laying down a heap of freak on Picard, Data, and their friends.

XXII.

Tom climbed into a Jefferies tube, wearing a utility belt from which hung a small canister and a few tools. Working quickly, he accessed an environmental control systems panel, opened a conduit, pressed a button on the canister causing the small LED light on its side to change from red to green, and slipped the canister into the conduit. Then he sealed the conduit, closed up the panel, climbed out of the tube and headed to his quarters.

Meanwhile, Will Du found a systems diagnostics workstation and began to insert and remove a series of isolinear data chips, after which he manually entered a series of command codes. Once he was done, he made his way to the bridge.

Moments after Will Du completed his work, an alarm light began to flash on the operations console of the bridge. Simultaneously, Picard's chair-based comm unit chirped.

"Captain, this is Engineering. I don't know why it's happening, but the warp core containment field is destabilizing and the core is going critical. It's going to breach within fifteen minutes."

"Can you stop it, Mr. La Forge?"

A moment later the chief engineer replied. "Negative, sir. We need to evacuate. Now."

"Understood, Mr. La Forge," Picard said before closing the channel and opening another one. "This is the captain. All personnel, I repeat all personnel, are to evacuate the secondary hull immediately." He turned to his executive officer. "Mr. Riker, would you prepare for saucer separation once we're sure the secondary hull has been evacuated?"

"Yes, sir," the first officer replied, as he rose and quickly moved to the helm. He rapidly began working the controls.

"Sir, all personnel have left the secondary hull," Data reported just minutes later as Geordi La Forge exited from the turbolift and made his way to the engineering station.

"Captain," the chief engineer reported, "We have three minutes, twenty-seven seconds until the warp core blows."

"Mr. Riker, complete saucer separation and prepare to engage full impulse engines now."

"Yes, sir," Riker said, acknowledging his captain's orders.

As the giant saucer section gracefully broke free of the crippled secondary hull and began to pull away at full impulse, the door to the bridge slid open and Will Du emerged from the turbolift, perspiration running down his face.

"Sir," he croaked out, looking haggard. "This is for you," he said as he staggered down the ramp to Picard's chair to hand him a padd. Du screamed and collapsed before he was able to hand the padd to the captain. Picard and Riker rushed to the lieutenant's side and saw the parasite exit from Will Du's ear.

"Is that what I think it is?" Riker asked.

Data had joined them. "If you are thinking that is a sand worm from Ceti Alpha V, sir, you are indeed correct. Would you like me to kill it?"

"Yes," Picard said before he hit his comm badge and called for medical assistance. Data, meanwhile, responded by crushing the creature beneath the heel of his boot.

Picard retrieved the padd, which was turned off. He activated the device. Data stood up straight, blinked twice, and fell to the floor.

Geordi rushed down to examine his fallen friend while Picard looked at the padd, which now bore a message, which he read.

Riker couldn't help but notice the expression on Picard's face; it mingled anger and surprise.

"Sir?"

Picard grimaced at his first officer, then handed him the padd.

Riker read the text.

The message was short and chilling:

_I could have killed you quickly, but instead I'm going to enjoy knowing you've died a slow, painful death. Lore. p.s. Thanks for the ship._

XXIII.

"We will be in orbit in three minutes," Rufus said.

"Have we located Rayna's ship?" Kim asked.

"Yes," the mole rat replied.

"Prepare to scan for Ron," she ordered.

Moments later, _Calypso_ eased into orbit. As it did, the sleek spacecraft passed within 300 kilometers of the Orionisi ambassador's vessel, earning it a warning from Rayna's escorts, but giving Kim and crew sufficient time to scan for Ron's DNA signature.

Worf frowned. "He is not on board."

"You're sure?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied.

Kim let out a low growl. "Rufus, can you scan the slave market on the surface?"

"No. There is a dampening shield covering the entire complex."

Kim stared through _Calypso_'s viewports. "He's down there. I know it," she said quietly before turning to the naked mole rat. "Rufus, contact the spaceport authorities."

He opened a comm link and an Orionisi male appeared on screen. "Federation vessel," the hulking man demanded. "State your business."

Kim returned the man's steely gaze and uttered six words she never thought she'd say: "I'm here to buy a slave."

"I will need to review your identification," he said curtly. "Transmit your ship codes and crew manifest."

"Of course," Kim replied in a bored tone, trying to sound like she regularly trafficked in sentient beings.

Shortly after departing _Enterprise_, Kim had spoken with Wade. She was grateful that she had him remove Worf, Rufus and her from the roster of active-duty Starfleet personnel; though Kim had resigned, it would normally have taken weeks for Starfleet Central Records to update their information. Kim also had Wade remove _Calypso_ from the Starfleet ship registry. As a result, _Calypso_, whose identifying marks had been removed during the refit, now appeared to be an armed civilian vessel used by Kim and her friends, who looked like merchants engaged in unsavory business.

"You are cleared to land," the green-skinned man replied. "You may proceed to the space port adjacent to the central slave market."

_TBC …_


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **In some circles 13 is the archetypal bad number. In others, it's 666 that is deemed most baleful. In the KP universe, the most despised of numbers is, of course, 901.

I have decided to redeem this most unloved of numbers by turning the milestone of the 901st review into an opportunity for celebration. To do this, I have created "The Eric." This award will be retired after its presentation on this one occasion. The winner of "The Eric" is TexasDad, who unwittingly submitted the 901st review for this story. TexasDad's prize: he gets to name the plot or theme of a one-shot that I will write after I complete _KP:TNG_.

* * *

Thanks to campy, AtomicFire, MichaelCross, whitem, JPMod, US.Steele, DR.J0Nes, Commander Argus, Nightwing 509, Josh84, Uru Baen, spectre666, zeerak, RealityBreakGirl, Yuri Sisteble, mkusenagi2, Louis Mielke, kim's 1 fan, surforst, conan98002, CajunBear73, Whisper from the Shadows, Molloy, Ezbok58a, Taechunsa, Slyfer, Zaratan, and TexasDad for reviewing. 

As always, special thanks to campy for his beta and proof work.

Leave a review, get a response.

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I. 

Picard grimaced, knowing he'd just been played – expertly – by Lore. Before him lay an incapacitated officer, a deactivated android, and a padd containing a morbidly chilling taunt. He suspected all three were somehow tied to the malfunctioning warp core.

"Number One, are there any artificial life forms aboard the secondary hull?"

Riker conducted a scan of the rapidly receding part of the ship. "One, sir," he replied before turning back to Picard. "Lore?"

"I would think so," the captain replied.

"What's he up to?" Riker wondered aloud.

"That's what I'd like to find out," Picard said. "But something tells me that there will not be a warp core breach."

"Looks like you're right, Captain," agreed _Enterprise_'s executive officer. "Scans show no sign of problems with the warp core. We've been had."

"The question remains, what else has Lore been up to?" Picard mused. "Mr. La Forge, please run a level three diagnostic."

"Yes, sir," he replied. Another engineer joined Geordi at the station, freeing him up to join the captain, who was now kneeling by Data's side.

"Geordi, do you have any idea what might have happened to Data?" Picard asked.

Geordi knelt down, pulled back a piece of Data's scalp and plugged his tricorder into a node. A moment later the chief engineer sighed and said, "I don't know, sir. His systems have just … shut down. Normally, I'd take him down to Main Engineering to perform a full systems diagnostic, but …"

Picard grunted. "Yes, I know." The captain was finding the situation to be highly aggravating.

The doors to the bridge slid open and Beverly Crusher emerged; she hurried down to Will Du's prostrate form. She immediately noticed the crushed parasite and the blood in its victim's ear. "That was in his head, wasn't it?" she asked.

"Yes, and if it's what I believe it is," Picard said, "it made him susceptible to mind control."

"I'm going to have to get him to Sickbay," she said.

"Make it so, Doctor."

Crusher was about to press her comm badge when it chirped.

"Crusher here," she said.

"Dr. Crusher, this is Ogawa. I'm hoping this is a systems malfunction, but we're detecting Trioxybenzahydrine in the air."

Beverly's eyes shot open. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Trioxybenzahydrine," Picard, instantly alert to a potential new danger, said. "What is it?"

"Jean-Luc, it's a toxic gas. If its spread isn't stopped, everyone on board will begin losing control of their motor skills within ten minutes and will be semiconscious at best within the next twenty."

"_Merde_," Picard swore. "Mr. Geminini," he said to the man now sitting at the ops station, "Determine where the gas is being released and shut down those parts of the environmental control system."

"Sir," the officer responded, "environmental control systems are not responding."

"Mr. La Forge," Picard said. "Any thoughts?"

"I don't understand what's happening, sir," Geordi replied, looking at Picard. "The system just shut itself down. I'm guessing some sort of virus has been released into the main computer." The engineer turned back to his data readouts. "Snap. Captain, main life support has failed."

"How long do we have?" the captain asked.

"Using reserves, and shutting down all non-essential systems we have three and a half, maybe four hours at most," La Forge replied.

"I'll begin broadcasting an SOS," Riker said.

"Make it so, Number One," Picard agreed before adding sardonically, "Assuming Lore hasn't also sabotaged our communications systems."

Picard's suspicion that the android had done just that was to be confirmed moments later.

II.

Lore looked around the battle bridge with satisfaction; soon it would be filled with synthodrones from _Drak Force One_. He expected Stan and Ollie to hail him at any moment to begin the transport process.

The android was focused on the viewscreen with its image of _Enterprise_'s receding saucer section. He had been tempted to simply destroy the saucer; among the systems he'd taken off-line were weapons and deflector shields, leaving the primary hull a ripe, defenseless target. But Lore was not only criminally insane; he was sadistically cruel. And the idea of knowing that he had not only foiled his brother with a positronic-net-dampening EMP burst from the data padd Will Du had delivered but had also succeeded in defeating Jean-Luc Picard, who would now have to spend his last hours knowing both who had killed him and that he was impotent to do anything about that, was too delicious to pass up. Lore relished knowing that Picard, as he lost control of his body and drifted into a half-waking state, would know he was going to suffer a slow, painful death courtesy of the eldest son of Noonien Soong.

A console light flashed and a comm link chirped, drawing Lore's attention from the viewscreen. He grinned, knowing that the first of the synthodrones had arrived.

III.

Ron sat slumped against the cold iron bars of the holding pen. For the first time in his life, he was succumbing to true despair. He had always thought there was hope, even during that whack blizzard on Olympus Mons when he was a teenager. Of course, Kim had been there with him then. Now, he was utterly alone.

He wondered where Kim was, what she was doing. He wanted nothing more than to see her. He didn't care if she was loving and seductive; animated and engaged; or even ill tempered, sharp-tongued, and sarcastic. He missed her terribly. And he feared that unlike his trip to Wannaweep, there would be no going home this time, no happy reunion with his best friend.

Ron was worried about Kim and how she would fare now that he was gone. He knew she was strong, independent, and resilient. But he also knew she had opened her heart to him in a way she never had to anyone else and he now feared she, the girl who could do anything, would blame herself for his predicament. He didn't want Kim leading a guilt-filled life. Part of him wished he had never come to _Enterprise_: If he hadn't made the trip, he wouldn't be in this hellhole and Kim wouldn't be in a position to spend the next ten decades feeling she had let him down. Ron didn't feel as if she had – that honor belonged to Yori – but he knew Kim would feel responsible. That was Kim's way.

His thoughts turned from Kim to Yori. He actually chuckled. Yori's appearance with the phaser had surprised him. He never would have expected that of her. He still couldn't believe Yori was working for Rayna. Kim's former roommate had seemed like such a straight arrow, a polite, by-the-book officer, admittedly a hot one, who would sleep in her uniform. He wracked his brain for an answer to the puzzle of why Yori would shoot him, but was having no luck at finding an answer. Ron's ruminations were interrupted, however, when an Orionisi slaver opened the cage, reached in, and roughly pulled him out.

Ron knew what would happen next: he would be brought to the auction block. As he was led away, he thought bitterly of how strange life was. A few days earlier his most fervent wish was that his life-long best friend would be interested in pursuing a romance with him; that wish had been granted, more fully than Ron ever imagined possible. Now he had a very different wish: that there was a market for one-eyed cooks. The alternative, being used as chum for his captors' animals, was a fate he simply didn't want to contemplate.

IV.

Shego left the hostelry where she and Drakken were staying and wandered out onto the gloomy streets of Taigus VIII's main city.

Drew was still ranting and whining about how they had been double-crossed, how they had been cheated of their best chance ever at galactic domination. While Shego was also royally tweaked by the way in which their plans had been foiled, she had no interest in listening to any more of Drakken's complaints.

Shego was nothing if not practical. She was a criminal. Drakken was a criminal. Eric was created by a criminal. Lore was beyond criminal. Shego had never bought the line about honor among thieves. Thieves stole. Thieves cheated – and not just from an unsuspecting or innocent public, but from each other. So if treachery had entered into the picture, she couldn't be surprised.

She had to give Lore his props. While Shego knew it was Eric who had shot them, she was convinced it was Lore who was behind what had happened. Shego hated to admit it, but the android had gotten the better of them.

The green-skinned villainess had made her way down the congested main thoroughfare and walked purposefully into the slave mart, communicating to the various Orionisi males through her posture that she was a woman of consequence, someone to be taken seriously. She had long ago learned how to comport herself in this setting: the teeming, noisy emporium was familiar territory for her; she had sold more than one hapless captive there. She ignored the cries and moans of the desperate, defeated-looking beings from dozens of worlds that filled the gloomy hall as she looked up at the bidding board. Seeing that an auction was about to take place, Shego made her way to the block to see if anyone interesting was about to be sold.

When she saw who was being led up to the block, a wicked grin spread across her face. Shego decided that if she wasn't going to enjoy ruling the Alpha Quadrant, she was at least going to enjoy a good meal. She was going to treat herself to her own personal cook. And making the situation even sweeter, given the sorry shape he was in, she suspected she could buy Kim Possible's sidekick for a relative pittance.

V.

Kim had made sure to do her research on the Orionisi before they arrived on Taigus. She knew how to carry herself so she would be taken seriously; she couldn't help but smile when she recalled her light-hearted banter with Picard and Riker about her scar. She would indeed be seen as damaged goods, though she was more interested in being seen as dangerous. She hoped the scar, along with her hair pulled back would convey that image.

In addition to being familiar with Orionisi mores, she knew how the auctions worked. She wasn't surprised to learn that the bidding would be managed much in the way it would be on Earth. However, thanks to technology, the Orionisi could ensure at every stage of the auction that a bidder had sufficient funds to pay should he prevail. That way, nobody's time was wasted. Thanks to Wade, funds weren't a problem – Kim now had a fortune at her disposal. She had had no qualms about asking Wade to hack into Montgomery Fiske's accounts on _Qo'noS_ and Ferenginar. Since she was sure the ambassador was responsible for Ron's sitch, she thought it was appropriate that, at the very least, the diplomat fund Ron's release.

Kim strode from _Calypso_ with confidence; Worf and Rufus were each a step behind her. As the threesome approached the entrance to the slave emporium, an imposing figure blocked their way. He leered openly at Kim.

"Which of you is selling her?" he asked. "I'll take her off your hands before the next auction."

Kim, not pleased, looked at the man through narrowed eyes, then with lightning speed took him down and relieved him of his weapon. Much to his surprise and chagrin, his disruptor was pointed in his face. "Your customer relations skills are so lacking," growled Kim.

Worf, looming over Kim's shoulders, bared his teeth.

"I believe you owe the lady an apology," Rufus said menacingly.

The Orionisi, recognizing he had made a mistake, grunted one in response.

Kim then pocketed the guard's weapon. He was about to protest but relented when he saw both Worf and Rufus had already withdrawn their phasers. There may have been a dampening field inside the emporium itself, but outside, firearms remained fully functional.

Kim was ready to enter the sprawling mart. They were now close enough that, if Ron were indeed inside, the Kimmunicator would be able to detect him. She decided it was time to confirm her hunch that he was present. She withdrew the device from a pouch on her belt and looked at its screen. Her eyes lit up and her heart began to pound. Neither Worf nor Rufus was surprised when she said, "Let's go. Ron's in there."

VI.

Ron knew he must look terrible. His patch was gone, he was bruised, his hair was a mess. He was even missing his pants. But he still thought a cook would draw more interest from the crowd.

Instead, there was just one bidder.

Shego.

He desperately wanted someone else to offer a counter-bid. He saw what Shego had done to Bunt and he knew from personal experience how competent and unforgiving a fighter she was. But as worried as he was for himself, he was even more worried for Kim. Shego struck him as being the kind of person who liked to win. And she had not defeated Kim when the two women had met. Ron could not help but fear that Shego would use him as bait to try to trap Kim.

When Ron was led to the auction block, he had thought that nothing else could go wrong in his life. But as he considered the prospect that he could be used by Shego to capture his wife, he knew he was wrong. He began to feel queasy as he envisioned a defeated Kim being led up to the block on which he now stood.

Suddenly, he felt a need to retch.

VII.

"Kim. On the block. It is Ron," Worf said, pointing from the middle of the floor to the auction block beneath the giant bidding board.

Kim saw her husband and gasped. He was in awful shape and he was in the midst of being sick. She flinched when the auctioneer, obviously displeased with what Ron had just done, pressed the button on his controller and shocked Ron, who dropped to his knees in pain. Filled with righteous fury, she shoved her way to the front of the crowd.

Her first instinct was to jump onto the podium and kill the hawker. Never before had Kim actually wanted to kill someone, but at that moment she not only wanted to end the Orionisi's life slowly and painfully but knew she was perfectly capable of doing so. Yet the rational part of Kim's brain asserted itself, convincing her that violence would be counterproductive. If she killed the auctioneer, Ron would not be free and she would be in trouble; the number of armed Orionisi in the auction hall was impressive. She knew what she needed to do.

Kim raised her hand and made a sign. The hawker, surprised that anyone else would be interested in such a pathetic specimen, could see she was bidding. He offered a sickly smile, then sent a minion to confirm that Kim was capable of supporting her bid. He took her banking particulars, ran a check, then nodded to the man next to Ron.

The hawker grinned. He always liked a competitive auction.

Shego cursed as she saw the text and numerals on the oversized bidding board change to reflect the entry of a second party into the auction. She looked to see who else was trying to buy Ron. When she realized that her competition was none other than Kim she was furious. She'd lost a galaxy already; she had no intention of losing her cook.

VIII.

Ron's first thought when he saw Kim in the milling sea of faces was that he was hallucinating. He was tired, he'd been beaten, and he didn't imagine that the repeated shocks from the thing on his neck would meet with Dr. Crusher's approval. But when he realized Worf and Rufus were right behind Kim, he concluded that Kim was real. Ron didn't think that even his imagination was that active, even if he did spend a good portion of his childhood palling around with an imaginary giant named Dorn.

He watched the threesome with interest. He was pretty sure Kim, who looked both determined and outraged, had begun bidding on him.

After she placed her bid, she talked briefly with one of the Orionisi. After the man walked away, she looked up in Ron's direction and locked eyes with him. He knew then for sure that he wasn't imagining things. He knew the Kim he was seeing was for real and that she'd come to save him.

For the first time since his abduction, Ron felt hopeful. He just prayed Kim had enough money to outbid Shego.

IX.

Though the synthodrones were on board, at their stations, and awaiting orders and _Enterprise_'s saucer section was dead in space, Lore was not pleased. He sighed as he realized he was going to have to determine how to safely integrate the pan-dimensional vortex inducer into the ship's systems.

He was glad he had carefully reviewed Drakken's proposed method for doing so before he had followed the self-described evil genius' instructions. The android had concluded that what the blue-skinned mad scientist had suggested would not only have failed to open a stable wormhole but would have torn a hole in the very fabric of space and time. _Enterprise_ and all aboard her would have been utterly and instantly annihilated.

Lore shook his head and muttered about how 'time doesn't grow on trees' and the need to 'do the job yourself if you want it done right' as he began to review the starship's schematics.

X.

"Four bars of gold-pressed latinum," the auctioneer said, no longer able to contain his surprise at the price the mutilated human was commanding. "Do I hear four bars and ten strips?" he asked, enjoying the competition between the two women.

Kim nodded. With a smile, the auctioneer announced, "Four bars ten strips. Do I hear five?"

The slaver's eyes lit up and his grin spread as he acknowledged a bid of five bars. The board once again changed, recognizing the presence of a new bidder. A third party had inserted himself into the proceedings, much to the Orionisi's pleasure. It appeared as if the scrawny chef would fetch a handsome price indeed.

Worf growled and searched out the new party, a Ferengi with especially large ears and unusually beady eyes.

"Excuse me," Worf growled.

The Ferengi looked up at the Klingon, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"What do you want, Klingon?"

"I want you to stop bidding."

"Why would I do that? I need a chef."

"You also need your legs."

The Ferengi looked at Worf dubiously. "What are you talking about?"

"My employer wishes to buy the human for herself. If you deny her this she will be very angry."

"So what," the Ferengi replied dismissively. "Why should I even care, Klingon?"

"Because," Worf said with relish, "I will have to shatter your legs to mollify her."

The Ferengi laughed nervously. "Nice try, Klingon. You wouldn't do that. It wouldn't be honorable."

Worf laid a strong hand on the Ferengi's shoulder. "Look carefully, trader. Do you see me wearing the uniform of a warrior?"

"Hmm. You're not …" he muttered as he realized Worf was wearing what looked like a black commando suit.

"That is because I am not a warrior. I am an independent contractor. Honor is not my highest priority; pleasing my employer, who pays me handsomely, is. Which means I will gladly break both of your legs. Slowly and painfully."

The Ferengi's eyes darted about. "You know what? I think I should look at what else is on offer before I commit myself to this slave. I think I'll withdraw from this auction."

"A wise decision," the Klingon said as he watched the trader end his participation in the bidding.

Worf returned to Kim and Rufus. "You need only outbid Shego."

Kim looked at Worf, wondering what he had said to the Ferengi. She decided not to ask any questions.

"Thanks," Kim said as she entered a new bid. "I think it's time to end this party."

"I have a bid of … ten bars of gold-pressed latinum!" the auctioneer announced gleefully.

Kim cast a glance at Shego, who looked back through slitted eyes.

"Do I have another bid?" the auctioneer asked.

"Going once, going twice …"

Shego raised her hand.

"… I have a new bid of twenty-five. Do I hear thirty?"

Kim nodded.

"Thirty-five."

Shego raised her hand.

"Forty. Do I hear fifty?" he asked, looking at Kim. She nodded as she entered her bid.

"I have fif– one hundred bars of gold-pressed latinum," the auctioneer said with amazement. "Do I hear …"

Shego, furious, indicated that she would not be raising her bid.

"… going once, going twice, going three times. The one-eye human cook is sold for one hundred bars of gold-pressed latinum," the man announced with relish.

Shego growled as Kim, escorted by Worf and Rufus, made her way up to the block. She watched with displeasure as the slaver handed Kim the control unit for the pain inducer on Ron's neck. Very annoyed, Shego turned on her heel and began stalking out of the mart. As she reached the door, however, she had an idea and her scowl became a wicked smile. What she wanted to do would require Rayna's acquiescence. But if the Orionisi diplomat and power broker concurred, Shego might not only own Ron, but Kim, too, before the night was over.

XI.

Tom Carter lay on the floor of his quarters screaming, begging for someone to help as the creature from Ceti Alpha V crawled out of his ear. His suffering soon intensified as he found he was unable to control his movements.

While Carter suffered, nearly 1000 other sentient beings aboard _Enterprise_'s saucer section grappled with their own loss of their motor functions. They had known this would happen. Lore had left internal communications alone, allowing Picard to communicate with his crew. He told them what was happening, warning everyone to sit or lie down, thus forestalling the possibility of anyone falling from a ladder or gangway and suffering an injury that could not be treated.

Jean-Luc Picard was among the last to succumb to the effects of the toxic airborne gas. Sitting in his command chair, unable to move, he slowly slipped into a befogged state, unsure of where he was, left only with a feeling of inescapable dread, abject failure, and raging fury.

XII.

Kim took a dazed Ron by the hand and led him to the floor.

As he descended the steps, he looked at Kim, then Worf and Rufus. Then he looked around the bustling emporium and winced as another captive was led up to the auction block. The last few hours had left him feeling rattled. While Kim's presence brought him tremendous comfort, he was still on edge from Rayna's threats and attempted seduction, Yori's surprising ambush, the beatings, and the auction that had almost made him Shego's slave. He wondered just how many sessions he'd need with Deanna Troi before he could put all of this behind him.

Kim saw Ron's disturbed features. She stopped and reached up to his ravaged cheek. "It's so over, Ron. It's going to be okay. You're safe now."

Kim was about to hug Ron when he stopped her.

"Not here," he said. "I don't ever want to associate a KP hug with this," he added, gesturing to indicate the slave mart.

Kim smiled and gently squeezed his hand, pleased when he reciprocated the gesture. "Come on. Let's ace this place."

Ron was more than amenable to Kim's suggestion, knowing he wouldn't begin to relax until they had left Taigus. Surrounded by holding pens filled with miserable captives and surly Orionisi slavers, he was still feeling tense and waiting for something else to go wrong.

As if on cue, Shego appeared with a large contingent of armed Orionisi.

"They're the ones," she said as the men quickly surrounded the party. "They're all Starfleet, here to disrupt the slave market's operations and free so-called Federation citizens."

"What do you say to these charges?" one of the men demanded.

Kim stepped forward. "I don't know what you're talking about," she answered. "I came to buy a slave," she said, pointing at Ron, "and I did. Now get out of our way so we can go, please and thank you."

"A likely story, Princess," Shego sneered. "Where's your pixie scout uniform?"

"I resigned," Kim snapped. "Satisfied?"

"You really expect me to believe that? You've got undercover written all over that innocent little face of yours, Punkin'," Shego said with a sneer. "Take them away," she barked.

Ron's heart began racing as he looked at Kim, who was staring defiantly at Shego; he winced as he once again imagined a pain inducer attached to his wife's neck. He wanted to help her, protect her – he needed to – but he didn't know how. Even with Worf and Rufus providing backup, he knew they were outnumbered – and outgunned. Though the Orionisi weren't carrying phasers or disruptors, which would have been rendered useless by the dampening field that enveloped the slave market, they were carrying fearsome weapons that looked like a cross between an old-fashioned Earth halberd and a Vulcan lirpa. Ron knew there was no way Kim, Worf, Rufus, and he could fight off Shego and her troops while they were unarmed.

_Man, _Ron thought,_ I really wish I had that funky magic sword right now._

XIII.

Lore could deal with two mute synthodrones; he was actually fond of Stan and Ollie, both of whom still resembled Romulans – but a shipful of faceless, voiceless simulacra gave him the heebie jeebies. He had tried to deal with his discomfort by ordering his faceless drones to take on human appearance. When they failed to respond, he demanded they morph into Romulans, then Klingons. He even suggested they make themselves look like Bolians, as ridiculous as he thought a crew of blue-skinned, bald-headed men would be. All of his attempts ended the same way: the synthodrones failed to change. As annoyed as Lore was, however, he really wasn't surprised that Drakken's creations would somehow be faulty.

Unable to change his troops' appearance yet confident in their ability to monitor the secondary hull's systems, Lore retreated from the battle bridge to an adjacent conference room to study the ship's schematics and the vortex inducer. Drakken had planned on hooking the device into the main engine, not realizing that the PDVI, directly channeling that much energy, would immediately go critical and destroy the ship and the surrounding sector. What Lore needed was a conduit that would regulate the flow of energy to and from the device while allowing the maximum amount of its output to be channeled through the main deflector array.

He sat in front of the monitor, his lips pursed, his fingers steepled, studying the pictures of _Enterprise_'s innards, determined to find the solution to this problem.

XIV.

"Ron! Call for the Sword," Kim exclaimed.

She didn't know why she encouraged Ron to do that since the bat'leth was securely stowed on board _Calypso_. But something, some voice – some voice that sounded like Kahless' – prompted her.

Everyone looked at her in surprise. Shego and the Orionisi were momentarily confused. That moment was all the time Kim and her crew needed to make a break for freedom.

Kim flipped her legs up and kicked out at one of the weapon-wielding Orionisi. Worf, meanwhile, wrestled one of his distracted captors off and then managed to throw the other one into one of the Orionisi holding Rufus. Rufus, in turn, bit down on the arm of the second man holding him; the guard howled with pain as the naked mole rat's giant buck tooth drove into his flesh.

Ron was paralyzed, unsure what to do. He didn't know how to fight ripped Orionisi slavers. He watched, confused, as his friends fought the Orionisi. He could see they were losing ground. He wanted to help but didn't know what to do. So he did what Kim asked of him, as whacked as it sounded.

"Yo, magic sword! Come to Rondo," he called out.

He stared in wonder as he watched the sword materialize before him. Ron didn't know what to do as he was still being restrained by his guards. But Kim, who had wriggled free, grasped the weapon. With the bat'leth in hand, she spun and struck the first of Ron's guards in the head with the back of the blade's handle while Rufus, seeing what was happening, leapt up and pulled the other man away from Ron.

Ron, now free, blinked, looking confused.

"Head in the game, Ron!" Kim ordered. "Catch!"

Ron instinctively responded to Kim's authoritative voice. He stretched out his hands, ready to receive the Sword. The moment the wood of the handle touched Ron's palms, he felt a jolt of energy, far more powerful than any he'd felt before, course through his body. He didn't know why, but he felt a surge of confidence, unsure of whether it was from Kim's strong presence or the strange feeling that he somehow had the experience of hundreds of generations of Klingon warriors at his disposal.

He flipped the blade and flashed a wicked grin at the nearest of the Orionisi. "Dude, you are going down!" he exulted as he gracefully hooked the man's weapon with the blade. He saw Worf was open and used one of the Sword's tips to flick the halberd to him. Ron then spun around and brought the back of the weapon down on the Orionisi's shoulder, doubling him over. He then brought his knee up into the man's chin and watched him stagger. Before he could finish him off, Rufus grabbed him by the arm and threw him into two of his comrades.

Shego watched as the momentum shifted from her forces to her would-be slave. Once again, events were slipping away from her. Shego was tired of being bested. She didn't care if her Starfleet nemesis had a scar that would reduce her resale value. What was happening now was personal. She was going to defeat Kim whatever the cost. Shego slowly edged her way to her opponent, maneuvering so that she could cut off the redhead from the larger group. "Ready to play, Princess?" Shego asked as she fired up her gloved hands.

Kim, feeling like she'd made a rookie mistake, swore under her breath as she realized she'd been detached from the larger melee. She realized she'd have to fight and decided to make the best of the situation. "Why not?" Kim answered insouciantly. "I could use a bit of a break from the varsity squad."

Shego glared at her. "Watch it …"

"Or what? You'll try to sell me? So not going to happen. Not now. Not ever," Kim said. "Bring it," she added, having assumed a fighting stance.

"If you insist …" Shego replied with a grin as she lashed out at Kim with a double punch and a kick.

_TBC …_


	25. Chapter 25

Thanks to calamite, whitem, CajunBear73, RealityBreakGirl, AtomicFire, Zaratan, day-walkr82, US.Steele, Nightwing 509, Josh84, Taechunsa, Louis Mielke, Classic Cowboy, Yuri Sisteble, surforst, Commander Argus, Whisper from the Shadows, spectre666, Dr.J0nes, Ezbok58a, rye.bread, Yankee Bard, Joe Stoppingham, TexasDad, Ace Ian Combat, kim's 1 fan, conan98002, Molloy, The Odd Little Turtle, Nikoagonistes, eckles, and Michael Cross for reading and to everyone for reviewing.   
Thanks, as always, to campy for his beta and proof work. 

Leave a revew, get a response. Seriously.

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; if you saw it on _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I. 

"… On our left flank, we have the Third Fleet, comprised of Task Force Seven under Halsey, Task Force Eight under Shren, and Task Force Nine, which is commanded by …"

Steve Barkin leaned against the railing as he took in the impressive, if sobering, spectacle before him: a huge, three-dimensional projection of the assets deploying to the Romulan Neutral Zone. To one side of the border, which shimmered like the Aurora Borealis, were the ships of the Federation, to the other were those of the Romulan Star Empire.

Barkin recalled the last time the two peoples had gone to war – the conflict had been long and bloody and fought with far less advanced, and thus destructive, technology. When the Chief of Starfleet Operations had asked him to name the operation, the Federation President had been tempted to call it Armageddon or Apocalypse; he had no illusions that a war between two of the Alpha Quadrant's most powerful militaries would end in anything short of wanton destruction and scores of billions dead. Yet he weighed that against the unacceptable possibility of the Romulans possessing the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer.

"Who's in command of _Galaxy_?" he asked, peering towards a starship in the middle of a squadron on the left flank of the Fleet.

"Commodore Saavik, Mr. President," the CSO answered, "is in command of _Galaxy_ and Gamma Alpha Squadron."

Barkin allowed himself a grin. "She served with Kirk and Spock on the old _Enterprise_, didn't she?" the President asked, knowing the answer to his own question. The Vulcan was already one of Starfleet's most celebrated officers long before Steve Barkin enrolled at the Academy, indeed even before he was born.

"Yes, sir," the CSO replied, remembering from briefings that Barkin harbored a fondness for the hard-charging ways of the Federation's early starship captains.

Barkin grunted with satisfaction. _Galaxy_'s Vulcan commander would not only be cool and collected; she'd also have learned that fortune came to the bold. He couldn't think of a better officer to be anchoring the left wing of the Federation's defense should all hell break loose. He respected the woman; she could have donned an admiral's uniform decades ago; but consistently refused promotion, preferring to remain in command of a star-ship. She was like so many of Kirk's crew who had insisted on remaining in space, rather than sit behind desks at Starbases or at headquarters in San Francisco.

The Federation President turned and faced the delegation of beribboned officers standing before him. "Okay, people, listen up. If anything so much as moves out there, even a piece of space junk, I want to know. Do I make myself clear?"

The CSO returned the President's gaze. "Yes, sir. We'll of course keep you posted of any and all changes in the Romulans' posture."

Barkin leaned into the admiral, his nose just centimeters from the officer's. "I don't think I made myself clear, mister," the crew-cut-sporting one-time teacher and junior officer growled. "I wasn't speaking metaphorically. If anything so much as moves, floats, rotates, materializes or dematerializes you will inform me immediately."

The admiral nodded, trying not to show that he felt like a truant student being berated by a schoolteacher. "Yes, sir. Understood."

"Good. Now stop standing around and get to work, people!" Barkin ordered before leav-ing the Stellar Situation Room, confirmed in his decision to keep a close eye on his Starfleet brass hats. Not much had changed, he thought, since he was a young louie in the field. The people on the line made the sacrifices while their superiors, comfortable back at HQ, thought in abstractions and spoke in platitudes. This time, he vowed, things would be different. While Steve Barkin was prepared to wage war ruthlessly and totally if such a decision was called for, he was also determined that not a single life would be needlessly lost on either side of the border.

II.

Kim barely dodged Shego's assault, weaving to evade the two quick punches, and doing a back flip to avoid the raven-haired woman's kick. Kim was impressed by her adversary's skill and speed. She prepared herself for what she knew would come next.

Shego didn't disappoint as she held up two glow-enveloped gloves.

Kim remembered all too well what had happened when Ron had taken an energy hit di-rectly to the chest; she knew she couldn't afford to be knocked out, and so scrambled to dodge the rapid-fire blasts from her opponent. Kim ducked around the corner of a cage, but jumped when she heard one of the captives howl – Shego had no qualms about strik-ing the would-be chattel as she pressed her attack on Kim.

As Kim retreated, concerned that she was being driven further away from Ron, Worf, and Rufus, she surveyed her surroundings. She had served in space long enough to instinctively think in three dimensions. She saw that the pens were arranged in such a way as to create an orderly grid pattern on the floor. She also noticed that the cages had both horizontal and vertical bars on the sides – and on their tops. Kim, once again being approached by Shego, grabbed onto one of the cross bars of the pen by her side with one hand, then the other. Shego saw what she was doing and hurled a blast of energy at her – and barely missed.

The villainess had expected Kim to begin climbing; instead, the former Starfleet officer had flipped herself up and onto the top of the pen. Shego snarled as Kim, now in a fight-ing position, stared down at her triumphantly.

"You can run, but you can't hide, Princess," she snarled.

"Oh, I don't plan to hide, Shego. I plan to take you down," Kim said with animus as she stunned her opponent by launching herself off of the pen and straight at her. "Nobody tries to buy my husband!"

Kim came down, driving the heel of her boot into Shego's solar plexus. Shego stumbled backwards, but was quick enough to grab onto Kim's leg as she went down, bringing Kim down to the floor with her.

As Shego and Kim began grappling, the captives in the cage began jeering and hectoring the two women. As far as the prisoners were concerned, they were both slave-buyers. None of the prisoners had seen how Kim had treated Ron; all they knew was that the two women were on the outside, which meant they were on the side of the Orionisi. Kim and Shego were rolling down the aisle when Kim's ponytail swung towards the lip of one of the cages. She screamed when a beady-eyed Tellarite grabbed it and pulled.

"Hey!" Kim cried out.

Shego grinned. "Maybe once we're ready to sell you, I can put you in there with your new friend."

"So. Not. Going. To. Happen," Kim grunted as she contended with Shego, who was rais-ing a glowing glove ready to slash at her face while the Tellarite who had grabbed her hair was now yanking her head up against the bars. Kim knew she was in a tight sitch. She was about to raise her leg up to drive it into Shego's body when she felt someone, clearly on the other side of the aisle, grab her ankles.

"Looks like play time's over, Princess!" Shego said with a wicked gleam in her basalt-black eyes as she brought down her energy-enshrouded fist.

III.

As Ron looked around, his anxiety began to mount. Much to his dismay, he couldn't see Kim. What he could see were Worf and Rufus preparing to fight off the new Orionisi arrivals that were making their way into the slave market. If something didn't change soon, Ron knew, they'd all be wearing pain inducers and be destined for the auction block.

He looked at the impressive lock on the nearest pen, then he looked at the Sword of Kahless. He shrugged his shoulders, then raised the blade over his head. Goggle-eyed, slack-jawed aliens jumped back and watched with amazement as the weapon sliced through the duranium alloy from which their prison bars were forged.

"Ah-booyah!" Ron exulted as the locking mechanism sealing the pen was destroyed and the door swung open.

He was surprised when none of the captives approached the door.

"What are you waiting for?" he demanded.

"They have pain inducers," a timid Bolian said, pointing in the direction of the Orionisi.

"Yeah, but we've got numbers. We can overwhelm them," Ron explained. "C'mon!"

"I'm not sure about this," a diffident Betazoid said as he looked dubiously at Ron.

Ron sighed. "Look, dude. Forget the fact that I've got one eye and no pants and I'm wearing my lunch. I've got a magic sword, okay?"

The prisoners still stood in the cage. Ron sighed, shook his head and ran off to another pen and cut open its lock. This time the captives, a collection of Andorians, Vulcans, and Tellarites were more confident, quickly rushing out into the aisle and following Ron as he made his way to another pen. The prisoners from the first lock-up realized that Ron was right and decided to join the growing exodus.

The number of freed would-be slaves quickly grew. Members of dozens of species were coursing through the aisles, following Ron. Then one of the group fell, writhing in agony; one of the slavers had begun activating an inducer. Some of the escapees began to waver and tentatively headed back to the pens, despite Ron's frantic appeals for them not to; Rufus, seeing what was happening, launched himself at the inducer-wielding slaver, his mouth open and his buck-tooth bared. The man howled as the naked mole rat slammed into him and bit down on the arm of the hand that had wielded the device. Worf, seeing the inducer fall, lunged and beat another of the Orionisi to the unit, which he smashed into the ground. Ron, relieved and grateful, waved and led his charges to another pen.

That was when he saw Kim, her ankles seized by one captive alien, her hair by another and a green-hued, black-haired woman atop her.

"Shego!" he hissed.

Shego, distracted by Ron's voice, looked up, surprised to see him and so many freed cap-tives. Her eyes opened wide – and her grip on Kim loosened, just enough to let Kim wrest her right hand free. Kim balled her hand into a fist and drove it into the side of Shego's head, disorienting the villainess, and giving Kim the opportunity to free her other hand. Kim quickly grabbed the side of Shego's head and slammed her forehead into her opponent's nose. As Shego reared up, howling in pain and anger, she instinctively reached her hands up to protect herself. Unfortunately for Shego, sitting up brought her closer to the pen behind her; another one of its captives reached out and grabbed her long mane of hair, yanking her backwards and off Kim.

Kim, though freed of Shego, was still struggling with the ill-tempered aliens who held her ankles and her hair as Ron approached.

"KP, let go of the guy behind you!" he ordered as he ran up to her.

Kim, suspecting what Ron was about to do, grimaced, but did as she was told. Seconds later the bat'leth came down, slicing off Kim's long ponytail. Her hands and head free, she sat up and lost no time in prying the other alien's hands off her ankles.

Shego, meanwhile, was screaming blue murder as a number of the almost-slaves accompanying Ron, seeing Kim was with him, grabbed Shego, wrestled her to the ground and pinioned her arms behind her back.

Kim, finally free, rose to her feet and looked Ron directly in the eye; she was looking especially tweaked.

"Hey, the new do works …" he said sheepishly.

Kim's eyes narrowed. "You are so lucky I love you or you'd be so busted, Stoppable."

Ron breathed a deep sigh of relief as a wry smile began to spread across his wife's face. She reached up and pulled him in for a kiss, not caring that his mouth was gorchy. He had no time to protest. "Thanks," she said softly, holding his face in her hands after she finished. "And don't tell me you don't want to associate kissing with this place. It's not every day a woman's husband goes all hero and saves her."

"Hey," he replied, puffing out his chest, "As a certain beautilicious Starfleet officer I'm married to likes to say, no big!"

Kim smiled, but Ron could sense he'd said something that bothered her. He was about to speak when she reached up and put a finger on his lips. "It's okay. Trust me."

Ron, though confused, nodded.

Kim took his hand, then turned and looked at the scene around her: the slave market was a shambles. There were Orionisi sprawled unconscious on the floor, and the pens had been ruined. As if symbolizing the sudden turn of events, a very irate Shego lay prone on the ground, a very large Tellarite sitting atop her. She grunted as she tried without success to squirm free from beneath her captor's considerable bulk. Then she cursed as an Andorian affixed a pain inducer to her neck. Satisfied, the blue-skinned, white-haired man looked up at an appalled Kim and Ron and said venomously, "She is one of them; it is time she knew how we have suffered." Then he pressed the button on the unit he held.

Shego screamed in pain.

Ron winced and Kim squeezed his hand. He closed his eye, as if struggling with some-thing. Then Ron looked at the man, his expression wasn't damning but pleading. "You don't want to do that," he said. "You don't want to be like them."

"What do you know? How long have you been here? You would have left with her," the Andorian retorted, pointing to Kim. "Not all of us were fortunate enough to be ransomed."

"But you're free now, dude!" Ron protested, staring at the Andorian.

"No thanks to her. No, she will know what it is like to be a slave!" he declared, pressing the button again, sending a jolt coursing through Shego's body. Her hands began to glow brighter and an inhuman, primal sound escaped from her throat.

"That's enough!" Kim said. "We so don't have time for this!"

"This is none of your affair, human," an angry Denobulan said.

"But it is mine," Ron declared, holding the bat'leth up, ready to strike. "Put the thingie down."

"You cannot be serious!" the Andorian said.

"Don't try me, pal," Ron replied coldly.

"Fine," the man said, disgusted, before tossing the inducer control to the ground. Shego's eyes were unfocused, she was panting – and the glow around her hands was fading, replaced with lurid sparks and greenish smoke.

Kim had wanted to ask Shego about the vortex inducer, but realized it would be some time before the henchwoman was in any condition to talk. Kim tried not to dwell on the spectacle before her; instead she focused on Ron, who had once again given her cause to be proud. If anyone present had reason to press that button, it was her husband. Then she looked at the crowd. "Excuse me!" she called out, trying vainly to make herself heard. "Excuse me!"

The freed captives were now talking and laughing with one another, arguing over whether Ron or the Andorian had been right about what to do with Shego, and casting aspersions at their erstwhile captors.

"YOU WILL BE QUIET!" Worf and Rufus bellowed in unison, stunning the motley group of aliens into silence.

"Thanks, guys," she said before turning to the crowd. "Are any of you rated to fly?"

Kim's question was greeted by just one raised hand. A Vulcan came forward. "I have flown small one-person craft," the woman said.

Kim nodded in response. "One of us will have to go with her," she said to Worf and Rufus. "She'll need help piloting the ship."

"I will accompany her," Worf said.

"Are you sure?" Kim asked.

"Yes," the Klingon said, "Someone needs to ensure that they do not kill her," he said, looking down at Shego.

"Uh, I may be missing something, but what are you guys talking about?" Ron asked. "Isn't _Enterprise_ here? Can't they just beam us all up or something?"

"Ron," Kim sighed, "it's a long story, but we came here on _Calypso_; it's a very small ship. There's no way we could get everyone on board."

"So what's the plan, then?" he asked

"We're going to have to take an Orionisi transport," she explained.

"Uh, KP, not that I'm fond of these guys right now, but is Starfleet going to be cool with that?"

"Ron," she said looking him in the eyes, "right now, what Starfleet thinks is the least of our worries."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'll explain later," she said, wanting to leave Taigus as quickly as possible. "We have to get out of here before more Orionisi show up."

"Okay, but I need to do something first," he said.

"Ron …" she replied, sounding impatient.

"I have to do this, Kimbo," he said as he trotted off down the path between two pens. "Trust me."

IV.

He desperately wanted to leave this place, leave its stench of corruption and cruelty behind. He wanted to flee to safety. But he couldn't do that without retrieving something, and that meant finding a particular individual. He wandered until he found the man he sought, who was lying motionless, face up on the floor.

Ron knelt down by the unconscious Orionisi. The man had obviously taken a lot of hits: his face was bruised, and green blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth. Ron wanted to feel sympathy, but found he couldn't muster any. The Orionisi had brought this abuse onto himself.

He began searching the Orionisi's pockets, rummaging through their contents until he found what he wanted. He grinned as he withdrew the simple, unadorned wedding band that had its twin on Kim's finger. He held the ring up and considered it before he slipped it on. Then he rose, and took another look at the guard.

Ron Stoppable had always been a gentle, friendly, and yes, goofy, soul. But a lot had happened to him in recent days, and he found the anger at what had been done to him welling up inside. He quickly found himself shaking with rage as he looked at the unconscious slaver, the man who sought to humiliate him, to sell him like an animal, who thought nothing of denying the reality of what he had with Kim. Ron was tempted to use the bat'leth on the man; it would be so easy to kill him, to end his miserable existence. He found himself raising the weapon, readying himself to strike.

_But if I do that,_ Ron told himself, I_'ll be like them. I'll be no better than that Andorian._

And he didn't want that. As much as Ron Stoppable wanted to exact vengeance upon his tormentors, he knew that wouldn't be right. For while in a very short time the slavers had taken a lot from him, they had, in the end, failed to strip him of his humanity. He low-ered his weapon and turned back to Kim and the others, refusing to do what his captors had tried, but failed, to achieve.

V.

Saavik pursed her lips and gazed at the starfield. Though she couldn't see them amidst the points of light, she knew that the Romulan Warbirds were gathering on the other side of the Neutral Zone.

She had seen her share of fighting during her more than seven decades as a Starfleet officer. She'd even been to war. But the conflict with the Cardassians would pale in com-parison to what would unfold if one side or the other decided to initiate hostilities. She had read the reports from Starfleet Command and had not been impressed by their sanguine predictions of 'holding the line' and 'managed escalation of hostilities.'

"Sir, I thought you would be interested in this," the young blonde-haired officer said as she handed her captain a padd.

Saavik looked at the human, who was wearing a blue and black uniform. The young woman had a long, equine face, her nose was snubbed and she had turned, hooded eyes that seemed filled with ennui. "Thank you, Lieutenant Flanner," the captain said. "And what am I looking at?"

"A probability model to analyze various scenarios that might unfold should hostilities commence between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. I believe you will be most interested in the first model."

Saavik looked at the padd, then at the young officer. She knew the story of Justine Flanner – most everyone in Starfleet did. The young woman had won a Nobel Prize when she was eighteen. When Flanner applied to the Academy, the instructors realized that she could be teaching them. They recommended that Starfleet commission Justine as an officer instead of enroll her as a first-year student. Over the next five years she proved to be one of the most competent science officers in the fleet. Saavik often felt that Flanner would have made a good Vulcan – and that was not always intended as a compliment. But she knew the young woman knew what she was doing.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Saavik said as a way of dismissing the junior officer. She turned to her right. "Mr. Singh, you have the bridge," she said to her XO as she rose from her seat. "I'll be in my ready room."

Saavik entered her private sanctum, approached the replicator and ordered a cup of coffee, Sumatra, black. She had James T. Kirk to thank for that vice. He had introduced her to the Earth beverage decades earlier, and she had never been able to master her desire for it. She had once seen her addiction to caffeine as a vice but had come to view it as a reminder of her fallibility. She knew too many of her kind thought too highly of themselves and their logic, which, for all its power and indeed beauty, was imperfect. Humility had served her well over the decades. She took her hot drink and sat down behind her desk.

She took a sip of her coffee and began to read. Moments later, Saavik arched an eyebrow as she learned that a conflict between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire had a 92.7 percent chance of drawing in the Klingons, Cardassians, and Ferengi. Assuming Justine Flanner's model was accurate, and there was no reason to think it was anything but, it was all but guaranteed that the entire Alpha Quadrant would be engulfed in the most comprehensive and devastating war ever, hundreds of worlds would be laid waste, and civilization as it was known would come to an end for centuries if not longer.

She set her drink down, entered a series of commands on her desktop computer, and watched as a small recessed panel in her desk opened. She withdrew a small device and pressed a red button on its front.

"Saavik?" a young man said as his image appeared on a screen on the device.

"Hello, Wade," she replied. "It is good to see you."

"You too," he said as he took a sip of his ever-present drink. "What up?"

"I need to speak to President Barkin immediately. Can you put me through?" she asked.

"Barkin?" Wade responded, barely avoiding spitting out his beverage. "Are you serious?" he continued as he began to work his system. "The security surrounding his comm net must be … okay, you're going through."

"Thank you, Wade," she said with what some might have said was an actual smile as the young tech guru's image was replaced by that of a very surprised Federation President.

"Explanation. Now!" he demanded.

"Please excuse the unorthodox method by which I have contacted you, Mr. President, but this is a matter of the utmost importance …"

VI.

Ron emerged from the slave mart and onto the adjacent spaceport.

He saw _Calypso_ and what had to be the transport; both vessels had already powered up their engines and were ready to depart as soon as the remaining freed captives – and he – were safely aboard.

He was about to make a dash for Kim and _Calypso_ when he saw the first of the Orionisi forces. The hulking slavers didn't bother issuing any warnings; they simply started firing shots, bringing down the slowest of the individuals boarding the transport ship.

VII.

Kim Stoppable looked at the monitor that was displaying a video feed of spaceport. She saw would-be captives falling and being pulled to safety, but nobody at the exit through which Ron would have to emerge. Kim cursed the positioning of the two craft. As things stood she couldn't bring any of Calypso's weapons to bear on the Orionisi, who were on the far side of the transport.

"Where is he?" Kim asked, her annoyance and worry etched on her face. "Come on, Ron."

"He will be here," Rufus said with confidence.

"I know, Rufus. I just wish he'd come with us," she said, drumming her fingers on the console. "I still don't know what was so important that he had to go back in there."

"Transport to _Calypso_."

"_Calypso_ here."

"Kim, the Orionisi are arriving. We must prepare to move out."

"Worf …"

"We cannot leave without you as an escort. If we stay, we will all be enslaved."

Kim bit her lip. The red uniform and four pips and all they represented that she had dreamed of days ago now seemed like a nightmare. This was the reality of command. She was in charge of this mission. She was responsible for not only Ron's safety, but also that of all the people they had saved.

She made a decision.

"Rufus, you're in command," she said as she rose from her seat and picked up her Kim-municator.

"Kim …" he protested.

"I'm not leaving Ron here. Not alone," she said as she opened the weapons locker. She quickly put on a utility belt, grabbed two hand phasers and a Type-3 rifle and made for the hatch.

VIII.

Ron looked across the landing pad. He saw the two crafts and the advancing Orionisi, who were using their weapons with abandon; he noticed that they were now taking pot shots at the ships in addition to the escaping captives. He couldn't make it to Calypso without running the gauntlet of disruptor-wielding slavers.

_I guess this is when Worf would say something macho like 'It is a good day to die,'_ he thought. _Well, at least I can help KP and provide a distraction …_

He stretched his arms, rolled his shoulders, flexed his fingers, took two deep breaths, told himself he really wasn't scared out of his mind or stark raving mad and, the Sword of Kahless in hand and raised over his head, ran from the mart screaming as loudly as he could.

IX.

_Rowf-Rowf-Rowf-Rowf-Rowf-A-ROOWWRRRRRRRRRR!_

Just as she dropped to the landing pad, firmly, yet gracefully, landing on two feet, Kim heard the unexpected but wholly welcome sound of Ron's unmistakable Mad Dog cheer. The sound of his voice filled her with hope and determination – and offered a valuable distraction: the Orionisi couldn't help but turn to the strange, wild sound coming from the direction of the slave market.

Kim quickly surveyed the scene, ran a few yards towards Ron, then dropped to the hard surface in a roll, aiming, then firing the rifle at the Orionisi.

The red bolt of energy lanced out of the weapon and struck one of the slavers. She aimed and fired at another, then another, watching as the green-skinned men fell. She knew they'd begin firing in her direction, so continued rolling. Each time she completed a revo-lution, she aimed and let loose another shot. Every few turns, she would roll back in the opposite direction, making her an elusive, unpredictable target for the Orionisi. As she continued firing, she found herself silently thanking Worf for all the seemingly interminable target drills he put his security officers through.

X.

Ron, still running, watched as Kim took down the Orionisi like she was playing one of his VR games. The slavers were falling as fast as the zombies he and Felix would zap when they played Klingon Mayhem. He was closing on her position when he saw her grimace and toss her rifle aside. As she withdrew a phaser, she looked in his direction for a moment. He was surprised to see the look of dread on Kim's face – then he watched in horror as the green bolt from one of the attacker's disruptors reached out towards her …

XI.

Kim swore and scowled as her rifle shorted out. She threw the now-useless weapon to one side and reached for one of her phasers. As she did this, she turned her head and saw Ron, bat'leth in hand, racing towards her. She wondered why Ron looked so horrified – then she felt her blood run cold as the green bolt from one of the slaver's disruptors lanced out towards him …

XII.

"You're sure about this?"

"Mr. President, it is mathematically impossible for one to ever be sure of anything," the Vulcan answered. "But I am 92.7 percent certain that if we engage in hostilities with the Romulans, civilization in this quadrant will all but cease to exist. It could take millennia to recover. That is, if the Borg do not return first and assimilate us all."

"Great," he growled. "So what do you suggest I do? Stand down and let the Romulans off the hook? I need options."

Saavik took a deep breath. She knew Barkin wasn't going to like what she was going to recommend; she wasn't sure she did. Yes, she was a Vulcan, committed to logic and reasoned discourse. But she was also a disciple of Kirk and Spock who wanted to act. Still, she knew this was the correct course of action and she was confident the President would do the right thing. "Keep the Fleet intact, but back from the Neutral Zone. Put more space between our ships and theirs; that will reduce the potential for an inadvertent commencement of hostilities."

"And then what?"

"Hope for a miracle. I believe that's what Captains Kirk and Spock usually did."

"You're joking."

"Mr. President," she said calmly, "I am a Vulcan. I do not joke."

XIII.

Yori Tanaka lay on the floor of the corridor before the secure storage unit that she believed held the Sword of Kahless, unable to move, wondering when she would either wake up or fall asleep. She felt uneasy, sensing that she had failed in a deep, existential sense. For reasons she couldn't articulate, she felt that she had behaved … dishonorably.

Making matters worse was that staring at her was none other than Montgomery Fiske, who had come to demand the release of the Sword. They had been arguing, indeed grappling as the enraged, seemingly unhinged diplomat tried to gain access to the bat'leth. They were still fighting when the toxic gas overwhelmed them.

Now, they lay on the deck of Enterprise, looking at one another, Yori not sure why this man reminded her of the demons Sensei had told her about when she was a child, Fiske unable to understand why he felt this woman had kept him from something he knew he so desperately wanted.

XIV.

"You two certainly took your time."

A stunned Kim and Ron gaped at Rufus, who was looking over his shoulder at them. They looked down and realized they were on a transporter pad. Then they looked at each other and immediately smacked lips.

"Okay, Rondo," Kim whispered, "more later. I have to help Rufus get us out of here."

Ron flashed a goofy grin at his wife. "Go get 'em, KP," he said as they rose to their feet.

As Kim dropped into the pilot's seat, Rufus looked at her. "I am returning command of _Calypso_ to you. What are your orders?"

"Let's get out of here," she said. "Now."

XV.

"This … thing … can alter the very fabric of space and time, but it's completely incom-patible with 24th century technology! What kind of lousy doomsday device is this?" Lore fumed, as he threw up his hands in disgust. "No wonder nobody back then ever suc-ceeded in taking over the world. Their stuff was junk!"

The android stared at the EPS conduit into which he had planned to insert the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer. According to his study of the ship's schematics, the site outside of Main Deflector Control should have been ideal. Unfortunately, the PDVI and _Enterprise_'s systems were incompatible.

Lore, frustrated, kicked the bulkhead with enough force to leave a noticeable indentation. With a dark scowl on his face, the android took the PDVI and stalked to the turbolift so he could return to Main Engineering to begin to fabricate a universal adapter.

XVI.

"_Calypso_ to transport."

"Transport here," Worf responded to Kim's hail.

"Worf, what's your maximum speed?"

"It is Warp 8.7," he said, clearly pleased with the transport's capabilities.

"Spankin'" Kim said in a tone that matched the Klingon's. "Maneuverability?"

"More than satisfactory," Worf answered. "I suspect this vessel was used to transport captives from beyond Syndicate territory."

"You're probably right," Kim agreed before continuing. "Worf, here's the sitch. We've got to get out of here, and fast. As soon as we break orbit, I'd like us to go to half impulse, then when we cross the orbital plane, we'll go to Warp 8.5 on my mark. You take point, we'll cover your rear."

"I assume you have a plan for dealing with the Orionisi defense net?" Worf asked.

"I'm hoping there's a way to take it down. Let's hope I'm right," Kim said as she pulled out her Kimmunicator and pressed the call button.

"Hi, Kim!" Wade said. "Do you have Ron?"

She couldn't help but smile. "Right here, Wade. When we get back I may have to have you implant a microchip in him so I never lose him again."

"Hey!" Ron protested. "You can get this pain thingie off me first."

Kim winced before she turned and sheepishly said, "Sorry 'bout that, Ron. I will as soon as I can." She then turned back to Wade, who, not aware of Ron's current electronic accessory, was chuckling. "Think you can bring down a planetary defense system?" she asked.

"I don't see why not," the young man said nonchalantly. "Do you have any probes on board?"

"We have a full complement of Type Seven astrophysical probes," Rufus announced.

"One of those will do," Wade said. "I need to establish a link between the Kimmunicator and _Calypso_, then from _Calypso_ to one of the probes. Then you can launch the probe and I'll take care of everything from there."

"How so?" Kim inquired.

"Simple," Wade said. "I'm going to program the probe to transmit a command protocol to the Orionisi defense network telling it to shut down."

"You can do that?" Kim asked.

"Sure can. It helps to have hacked into the Syndicate's defense network …"

"Wade, don't tell me you anticipated this possibility," Kim said skeptically.

"Nah," he said as he took a sip of his drink. "I just like hacking their systems. They're pretty good, so it keeps me sharp."

XVII.

Thanks to Wade's wizardry, _Calypso_ and its charge were able to leave the Taigus system without incident.

"Rufus, set a course for the Romulan Neutral Zone," Kim ordered as they broke the orbital plane. "Maximum warp." She knew that while the Syndicate's defense net had been rendered harmless, the Orionisi could still scramble ships and probably had some around Taigus. She wanted to put lots of space between themselves and the Orionisi as quickly as possible.

"Course and speed set … Captain," Rufus said with a twinkle in his eye.

Kim rolled her eyes.

"Captain?" Ron asked. "Did you get a promotion, KP?"

Kim shot Rufus a look, then rose from her seat and headed back to Ron. Her dark expression was immediately replaced by a smile as she saw Ron sitting in his boxers.

"We so need to find you some pants and a clean shirt," she said.

"Tell me about it," he replied. "It's chilly in here. As for shirts, something that breathes would be nice."

Kim rolled her eyes as she rummaged through a locker aft of Ron's seat. "Here, these should work," she said as she returned to Ron with a pair of utility pants and a tunic.

Ron slid on the gray trousers, took off his old shirt and donned the charcoal-colored top. "The Ronman is stylin'!"

Kim laughed, happy to see her husband jesting again. "Goof," she said.

"Yes, but I'm your goof. And I don't think the green boys have a return policy!"

Kim stared at Ron, surprised and a bit worried to hear him joking about what had recently happened.

Ron could sense Kim's concern. "KP," he said seriously, "if I don't kid about it, I'll start freaking out. To be honest, the first thing I'm going to do when we get back to _Enterprise_ is find Counselor Troi and book about a bazillion sessions with her."

Kim grimaced, then sat down on Ron's lap. "That's not going to be easy," she said softly.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. "She wasn't transferred, was she?"

"No," Kim said, taking a deep breath. She explained all that had happened on Enterprise. "So, you see, Ron, I'm not only not in Starfleet, I'll probably be spending the next few decades at the penal colony in New Zealand."

Ron was stunned. "You threw away your career for me?" he asked in a hushed, awed voice.

Kim reached up to Ron's face and gently caressed his scars. "You threw away your face for me," she said.

"Not the same thing, KP," Ron protested.

"You're right," she retorted. "You risked your life. All I did was give up a job."

"Ki–" he began before stopping, knowing that she meant what she said. "What about Worf and Rufus?" he asked.

"They're big boys who wanted to do the right thing," she replied. "And they're your friends."

Ron mulled that over. "Well, we've got this badical ship. Maybe we could become pirates?"

Kim shot him a look he remembered all too well from high school when he suggested doing something not quite on the straight and narrow.

"Okay. No on the pirate thing," Ron said. "You know, KP, I'm all about kiwi fruit."

"So you'll visit me in prison?" she asked, a wry expression on her face.

"Sha," Ron said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll be there with you …"

It was Kim's turn to look surprised.

"… Hey, I've been your sidekick since we did the Martian Red Cross thing in high school. And while I had to be satisfied with a Gentleman's C in Latin, I'm pretty sure that 'sidekick' is Latin for 'accessory'," Ron said as he cupped Kim's face in his large hands. "Kimila, if they send you to the Big House, I'm going with you."

She gazed into Ron's eye and smiled. Then Ron pulled her in for a kiss. As with their other kisses since Kim freed Ron, neither cared that his mouth tasted awful. The kiss began slowly, but quickly built in intensity, their relief and mutual desire mingling. They quickly forgot about their concerns, even where they were, until the red-alert klaxon began blaring.

Kim quickly broke the kiss, climbed off Ron's lap and returned to her seat by Rufus.

"Sitch me," she ordered.

"I have detected three Orionisi marauders," he said "They are on an intercept course."

"Speed?"

"Warp 9.0"

"Time to intercept?"

"Three minutes."

"Snap," Kim swore before she activated the comm link with the other ship. "Worf, we're about to have some company,"

"I have them on sensors," he said.

"Does that transport have any weapons?"

"Yes."

"Good. You may need them. The Orionisi will be here soon."

"We will be ready to greet them with phaser fire," the Klingon replied, as he began to anticipate battle.

"No," Kim said. "I know you want to stay and fight, but we're going to try to draw them off while you make a run for it …"

Worf forced himself to set aside his distaste at retreating, knowing it was the only sound course. "As much as it pains me, I must agree," he replied. "Good luck, Kim. Worf out."

"Rufus," Kim said after the transport ended its transmission. "Set a course for the Orion-isi, maximum warp," she said before turning to look back at Ron, who smiled at her encouragingly.

"I know the Ronman is irresistible, but keep your eyes on the road, KP," he quipped.

Kim couldn't help but smirk. "You are so prone to big-headiness," she said playfully before turning serious. "Ron, this is going to be a much dicier sitch than the one at Ras T'klar. Once the shooting begins, things will get pretty rough. I need you to make sure your restraints are properly secured." Kim was grateful that _Calypso_ was equipped with safety belts; she wondered why it seemed to be the only ship in Starfleet to be so equipped.

Ron had no trouble sensing the change in Kim's demeanor. He nodded, said "Gotcha," then gave her a thumb's up before he reached for the straps and buckles

Kim looked into Ron's eye and then at his hands.

Ron's hands were trembling; it was almost imperceptible, most likely because he was trying to control the shaking. Kim could see that he was scared, though if asked, she suspected he'd never admit that to her. Yet she knew that despite his fear, if he had to, he'd climb out of _Calypso_'s airlock and fight the Orionisi with his bare hands. Over the past eleven days, along with everything else she'd come to recognize about Ron, Kim had learned that despite any other faults or shortcomings Ron had – and have those he most surely did – her best friend-turned-husband was easily the bravest person she'd ever known or would know. She recognized that he must have always been this way, back on Mars, during their EVA training, perhaps even back in pre-K when he tried to protect her. She couldn't help but be affirmed and empowered by his support and encouragement, given freely despite his fears and anxieties.

Ron returned Kim's steady gaze. She was without question the most competent person he knew. She could be bossy and short-tempered. But she was smart, resourceful and incredibly brave; he'd known that ever since she pulled that thuggish little Andorian off of him almost eighteen years earlier. Looking at her, he was able to set aside his fears about the coming engagement, knowing that if anyone could get them out of this mess, it was Kim.

"Hey," Ron said. "I know there are three of them and one of us, Kimbo, but don't forget: you can do anything."

"As long as you've got my back," she replied.

"Consider it gotten," he said, grinning.

Kim smiled, took another look at her husband, then turned back to her instrument panel and the naked mole rat.

"Okay, Rufus, time to kick some slaver biscuit."

XVIII.

The marauders broke their formation, intending to overtake and thus surround _Calypso_. What the Orionisi hadn't counted on was the small ship's speed, which would enable the Starfleet craft to easily outrun the Syndicate vessels. Kim was grateful for that advantage, because the enemy ships were more heavily armed. In ideal circumstances, she'd use her speed to slip away from this engagement; but she needed to stay so the transport could make good its escape.

"We are now in weapons range," Rufus reported just as _Calypso_ was rocked by the first attack from one of the marauders. "Shields are at maximum strength."

"Okay, hold on," Kim said as she boosted her ship's speed and began evasive maneuvers.

Ron very quickly felt like he was on a vertiginous roller coaster; he wondered if he'd be presented with a cleaning bill if he hurled on _Calypso_'s carpet. To keep his mind off his stomach woes, he focused on the back of Kim's head. Seeing her with short hair was novel enough that he began to forget about his crummy tummy.

Kim put _Calypso_ into a tight corkscrew and eventually found herself behind one of the marauders. "Fire!" she ordered as Rufus targeted the phasers on the other ship's warp core.

"Direct hit!" Rufus exulted as the other ship dropped out of warp, indeed stopped dead in the water.

"Booyah!" Ron cheered. "Rufus, you are da man!"

"Thank you," the naked mole rat said before checking on the status of his weapons and defensive systems.

"The marauders are coming in together," Kim reported.

"Phasers are locked on the forward ship," Rufus said.

"There are two more coming in from eight o'clock!" Kim said.

_Calypso_ rocked as it took fire from two of the ships.

"We've been hit; shields are down to 77 percent."

"Engaging in evasive maneuvers, pattern Harriman Delta Five Tango" Kim said. "Hold on!"

Ron felt like the bottom fell out of his stomach as _Calypso_ immediately responded to Kim's commands. The sleek ship pirouetted on an imaginary axis, then headed at high warp on a course that was at a ninety-degree angle from its previous heading before sud-denly turning back towards the enemy.

"Arm photon torpedoes," Kim ordered. "I need a spread. We have to take out some of those ships or we are so done for."

"Torpedoes armed," Rufus reported.

The marauders were now redeploying, trying to compensate for _Calypso_'s superior speed and maneuverability.

"Kim, there is an incoming transmission from one of the Orionisi ships."

"Put it through," she growled, "and take helm control. Don't let them touch us."

As a familiar image appeared on _Calypso_'s small viewscreen, Kim arched an eyebrow and smirked. "Rayna. I should have known."

The Orionisi diplomat offered Kim a feline smile in response before speaking. "Kim Stoppable. How nice to see you."

"Sorry, but I can't say the feeling's mutual," Kim replied. "I'm sure you'll understand. The husband stealing? I'm so not down with that."

"Yes, I'm sure. But if anyone should be harboring ill will right now, it's me, don't you think? Someone just made off with my entire stock."

"You are so ferociously flawed, Rayna," Kim snapped. "They're people, not things."

"What they are is thousands of bars of latinum in lost profit," the Orionisi replied coolly. "You, however, will at least help me regain a small portion of what I have lost. Surrender and prepare to be boarded."

"As if," Kim said dismissively.

"Brave words, child. We'll see how bold you are when you're wearing a pain inducer," Rayna said imperiously before abruptly ending the transmission.

"Kim," Rufus said. "There are two more marauders converging on our position."

Kim looked at Rufus, then at Ron. "I'm not making this decision alone. _Calypso_ wasn't designed to fight off that many ships. We can still surrender."

"Well," Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've done the whole slave thing, and to tell you the truth, it's really overrated. I'd rather go down fighting. Though I'm cool with whatever you want to do, KP. You are, after all, the captain of this tub."

"He is right," Rufus stated. "On both counts."

She looked Ron and Rufus, realizing she was not just seeing a naked mole rat and her husband, but two men who saw her as their leader and themselves as her crew.  
She realized that _Calypso_ was truly now her first command.

"Then we fight," Kim said with resolve. "Mr. Rufus, prepare to fire a full torpedo spread on my mark …" She gave the order and the weapons were launched, taking another of the Orionisi vessels out of the fight.

The battle continued and yet another marauder was crippled. _Calypso_, however, was being hammered. The Orionisi had their own version of photon torpedoes, and were launching them at the Starfleet craft, while also targeting the vessel with disruptor fire. Sparks were beginning to fly from instrument panels and steam hissed from depressurizing pipes. The cabin lights winked out, casting Kim, Ron, and Rufus into darkness be-fore the emergency lights came on.

Kim was banking _Calypso_ when yet another torpedo detonated off the ship's aft quarter, rocking them violently.

"Captain," Rufus said without any irony or humor in his voice, "Shields are down to five percent. Another hit and we will be exposed."

"How are we on torpedoes?" Kim asked.

"We have exhausted our supply."

"Phasers?"

"They are off-line," Rufus said. "We have no weapons."

"Is the transport out of danger?"

"Yes."

"Then let's get out of here. Maximum warp."

As Kim gave the order the ship rocked again and again.

"They have hit the port nacelle," Rufus growled. "Curses! We are dropping out of warp."

_Calypso_ was at the mercy of the Orionisi ships.

_TBC …_


	26. Chapter 26

Thanks to Nightwing 509, JPMod, whitem, campy, captainkodak1, Yuri Sisteble, CajunBear73, Whisper from the Shadows, RealityBreakGirl, Commander Argus, Josh84, Zaratan, Mountain King, calamite, Quathis, AtomicFire, eckles, Ezbok58a, Uru Baen, surforst, kim's 1 fan, Kirbilius Clausius, TexasDad, conan98002, Dr. J0nes, Molloy, mattb3671, and Slyfer for reading and reviewing.

Thanks, as always, to campy for his bon-diggity beta and proofing assistance.

Write a review, get a response. Seriously.

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; if you saw it on _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I.

Shego woke to find herself in the brig of the Orionisi transport. Knowing just how robust the slavers' on-board security measures were, she knew it wasn't worth trying to break out. That didn't mean that she intended to remain incarcerated on the ship or allow herself to be imprisoned by the Federation authorities.

_Not that the latter will be much of a problem if Lore actually succeeds with his whacked plan to start an interstellar war_, she mused.

_Lore. _

The thought of the backstabbing, treacherous android infuriated her. But as Shego considered the many ways she'd like to disassemble, vaporize, neutralize, fold, mutilate and spindle her erstwhile partner in galactic conquest and mayhem, she realized that Lore might just be her ticket to freedom.

A satisfied grin spread across Shego's face. She stretched, rose to her feet, and began to carefully scan her cell. Then she found what she was searching for: a security camera.

She smirked as she looked at the lens.

"Yo, Klingon," Shego said, her voice a mixture of sass and ennui. "I know you're watching me. Now listen carefully: I know where the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer is. And it ain't on Romulus. You want to spare the Federation a full-out war, you know where to find me."

Shego then casually turned, returned to her bunk and reclined with one leg crossed over the other and her arms behind her head, fully expecting her jailer to be outside her cell in moments.

She wasn't disappointed.

Soon, the door to the brig slid open and Worf strode up to the force field separating him from Shego. "Where is the Vortex Inducer?" Worf demanded.

"Not so fast, Klingon," Shego said, holding up a hand. "You want that information, you got to deal."

"I do not deal with criminals," Worf replied.

"Right. You're too good to do that. Even if it just looks like you boosted a ship worth a couple thousand bars of latinum," Shego shot back. "Though I could be jumping to conclusions; maybe the Orionisi were so thrilled by the way cheerleader and her boyfriend busted up their little operation on Taigus that they gave it to you. Sorry, Klingon. Walks like a duck, talks like a duck …" she said, looking back at her nails.

Worf's nostrils flared. "What do you want?"

"Let's see," Shego said, looking up at the ceiling. "I want out of here. Now. And whenever this tub lands, you're going to let me go, no questions asked. I also want the cheerleader in a pain inducer so I can sell her, but something tells me you won't go for that. So I'll settle for two out of three."

"Do you actually expect me to let a dangerous criminal like you go free?" Worf asked.

"Better than watching the Alpha Quadrant go up in flames," she said, watching Worf's expression. "You know, you've got a lousy poker face. Remind me to play cards with you some time …"

Worf's jaw clenched.

"… Here's the deal. Your vortex gizmo was stolen by someone who would not only like to start a full-scale war between the Feds and the Rommies, but plans to attack Earth."

"How do you know this?" Worf asked, unable to contain his surprise.

"Because I helped Lore steal it," she said.

Worf's eyes opened wide. "Lore is involved?"

"You know him?"

"We have had … dealings," Worf said.

"Then you know that Lore and the PDVI are probably not a very good combination."

Worf knew Shego was right. "Fine," he growled. "I will accede to your demands. But if you are lying to me …"

"… You'll come after me, blah blah blah," Shego interjected. "Don't worry, Lore double-crossed me. I want some payback …"

Shego and Worf looked at one another.

"… Well, come on already," she said. "Take the force field down. Because I'm not saying any more until you do."

Reluctantly, Worf lowered the barrier. Shego rose to her feet and walked out of her cell.

"Okay, sunshine, here's the deal: Lore's planning on jacking _Enterprise_."

"What?" an incredulous Worf responded. "That is not possible."

"You Starfleet types are sooo cocky," Shego said, unable to hide her contempt. "'That is impossible,'" she said, mimicking Worf before resuming her own voice. "Not with two mind-controlled Starfleet officers with access to all of your security codes. Names Du and Carter mean anything to you?"

She smirked when she saw the look of recognition on the Klingon's face.

"Yeah, I thought they would. Well guess what? It gets even better," she continued. "Lore's got backup. A lot of it …"

II.

Kim rose from her seat and rushed back to the weapons locker. She grabbed a Type-3 rifle and tossed it to Rufus, who caught it with one paw. Then she lobbed a couple of phasers to the mole rat.

"You want one?" she asked Ron after she clipped two phasers to her utility belt and removed another rifle.

"Nah, this seems to be working for me today," he said as he hefted the Sword. "Besides, if you shoot the way you did down on the planet, I can just sit back and marinate – those guys are gonna be toast."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Stoppable. But no marinating," Kim said before she leaned over and kissed Ron on the cheek. "Okay boys, here's the sitch," she said, shifting back into mission mode. "If they board, shoot or slash. If they beam us out, shoot or slash. Got it?"

Ron and Rufus nodded just as _Calypso_ was rocked by another disruptor blast.

"Shields are off line," Rufus reported.

"Then it looks like it's time to lock and load," Kim replied.

III.

Lore grinned as he gazed at the holographic projection of a universal adapter at the workstation in Main Engineering. He had just completed designing the device and was confident that it would work. Now all he had to do was fabricate the piece of equipment and he'd be able to activate the vortex inducer.

IV.

Kim, Ron, and Rufus positioned themselves so they could be ready to spring into action. They weren't prepared for what happened next. _Calypso_ took another hit and the lights went off, casting them into darkness – and throwing the vessels beyond their craft into sharp relief.

Rufus looked out the forward port and called to his companions. "Great nacho! Look!"

Kim and Ron responded to the mole rat's call and were stunned by what they saw: materializing just off _Calypso_'s port bow was the impressive, intimidating mass of a Klingon _Vor'cha_-class attack cruiser. As soon as the warship dropped its cloak, it began firing at the marauders.

Then the comm light began to flash. Kim hurried to the console and activated her viewscreen. Her eyes opened wide. "Grilka?"

Ron and Rufus came up behind Kim.

"Chosen One, Consort," the Klingon replied. "It is good to see you."

"Okay, I am so confused right now," Ron said, rubbing his temples. "Don't get me wrong, but what are you guys doing here?"

"Not all Klingons have forsaken their honor for political expediency," Grilka answered. "IKS _Gorkon_ is at your disposal."

V.

Shego followed Worf to the bridge of the transport.

"Girlfriend?" she asked snidely as she looked at the Vulcan woman seated in one of the pilots' seats.

Worf scowled at Shego. "You are not amusing," he said before pointing at an unoccupied station. "Sit," he ordered.

"Whatever," Shego said as she dropped into the chair, crossing her legs and looking at the tips of her gloves before she reached up to her neck and the device that had been implanted there. "You don't think …"

"Be quiet," the Vulcan ordered as Worf opened a comm link to _Calypso_. "Otherwise, I will find the controller for that pain inducer …"

Shego was caught off guard by the cold menace in the Vulcan's voice.

"… Do not forget that Vulcans are not without emotions; we merely control them. Given the opportunity to be angry or vengeful, we can be as vicious as any Romulan."

Worf looked at his co-pilot admiringly, then opened a comm link. "Transport to _Calypso_, come in." The Klingon frowned at the lack of a response. "I repeat, transport to _Calypso_, come in."

Shego smiled smugly at Worf. "Looks like princess and the buffoon didn't make it. Too bad … not."

Worf glowered at Shego, then turned when his console began to beep. He activated the link to receive the incoming transmission. He was surprised to see the seal of the Klingon Empire on his screen, then stunned, though gratified, to see the smiling visage of Kim Stoppable.

"Long story short: we're okay, Worf," she said, anticipating his first question.

"That is good. But I thought Gowron had disavowed Ron?"

"I'm not exactly sure what the sitch is on _Qo'noS_, but if I understood Grilka, one of the Houses was making a play for power. Some of the other Houses were uncomfortable with the idea of the Chosen One being a human; Gowron sacrificed Ron to secure the support of the Council. Apparently, not everybody was happy with that decision. Grilka was majorly tweaked that Gowron turned his back on Ron and decided to do something about it."

"She is a formidable woman," Worf said. "Know that you are among friends; if she has brought you aboard her ship she has the support of her warriors."

"That's good to know, Worf," Kim replied. "I have to confess, Klingon politics can give me brain freeze."

"That is another sign of your good sense," he snorted.

"So what's your sitch?" Kim asked.

"We have escaped the Orionisi, thanks to you. However, we have a far graver problem: Lore."

Kim frowned for a moment; the name sounded familiar to her. Then she remembered her shared dream with Ron – and later learning that Lore was the evil twin of Lieutenant Commander Data. "Talk to me," she ordered.

"He has the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer. And his intention is to strike at Earth."

"So he played us," she said.

"Yes. And it appears that he is going to attempt to seize command of _Enterprise_." He then explained the plot as Shego knew it: the use of mind-controlled officers to inject the gas into the environmental control system and unleash the computer virus, the false reactor breach, the clearing of the secondary hull and the abandonment of the primary hull and its occupants.

"Worf, how do you know this?" Kim asked.

"Her," he said with distaste as he put Shego on screen.

"Hi, Pumpkin," Shego sneered.

"Shego," Kim hissed as she stared at her foe through narrowed eyes. "This story is totally whacked. Why should we trust you?" Kim asked.

"Because the android played me, too. I'll tell you what I told Chuckles here: I want payback," she answered bitterly before her angry expression turned into something smarmy. "Plus, your Klingon has agreed to give me a get out of jail free card."

Kim growled. She assumed that if Worf had done that, he had good reasons to. "Put Worf back on. Now," she demanded.

The Klingon, looking concerned, reappeared.

"Worf," Kim said gravely, "what's your current location?"

"We have crossed into Federation space and we're on a heading for Starbase 112, where we will release the prisoners and Shego."

"Good. Continue on that course."

"What about the crew?"

"Given _Enterprise_'s last known heading, we're closer to her most likely position," Kim said after doing some quick calculations. "We'll take care of that."

"Understood."

"I'd better go now," she said. "I have to contact Earth. Stoppable out."

After the link was cut, Kim allowed herself a satisfied smile. Starbase 112 was not only Nechayev's headquarters, it was also a spacedock. Shego's time at large would be very short as her first steps as a free woman would be onto a Starfleet facility where the authorities would lose no time in apprehending her.

"Kim –" Wade said before he was cut off by Kim.

"Wade," she replied in a commanding tone. "I need to talk to President Barkin. Now."

The tech guru already knew from Boothby that while Kim could be bossy she usually only made demands appropriate to the situation at hand. That meant whatever Kim had to say to the Federation President was as urgent as what Saavik had had to say earlier.

"Okay," he said. "Stand by."

Seconds later, Wade's image was replaced by that of a clearly annoyed Steve Barkin.

"Possible?" he asked, angry and incredulous, as he found himself staring at one of his former students. He didn't know what bothered him most: the unauthorized communication, the scar on her cheek, or the fact that she was out of uniform. "What's going on?"

"Mr. Barkin," she said, "the Romulans don't have the PDVI."

"What?" he exclaimed.

"Ron and I have just learned that the Federation has been set up. The person who stole the PDVI wanted to draw the fleet away so they could attack Earth. If he gets a war between us and the Romulans, so much the better."

"And how is he planning to do all this – and just who is he?"

"He is an android named Lore. He's one of the two most sophisticated artificial beings in the Federation. Apparently, he's gotten access to all of our security codes and is going to try to hijack _Enterprise_. Based on what we know, he's capable of doing that. Sir, if the PDVI were powered by and able to safely channel the energy from the ship's warp engines …"

"Cheese and crackers! He'd be able to blow up the planet."

"Not to mention create a wormhole, sir," Kim added. "Earth's in ferociously deep trouble. Do you have any ships available to intercept _Enterprise_?"

"No. If that android can open a wormhole we're in trouble. The entire fleet was deployed to the Neutral Zone. And something tells me that orbital defense satellites aren't going to cut the mustard here."

_Spankin'_, Kim thought before speaking.

"We're going to try to stop him, Mr. Barkin. And just so you know, our ship, _Calypso_, has sustained damage; we're going to be accompanied by IKS _Gorkon_. I'd be grateful if you'd get the word out that a Klingon warship might be firing on a Starfleet vessel in Federation space."

"Will do, Possible," Barkin said, before a small grin formed on his face. "You keep saying 'we' and you mentioned 'Ron' before. Is Stoppable with you by any chance?"

"Yes, sir," Kim answered. "We're married."

Barkin's grin turned into a full smile upon actually hearing some happy news. "Congratulations; it's about time."

"Sir?"

"I always thought you two would make a good couple."

Kim blushed. "Thank you, sir. Stoppable out."

VII.

Barkin called in the Chief of Starfleet Operations and handed him General Order 5480, ordering the Fleet to fall back. He decided he would wait until after the current mess was resolved before he cashiered the man; the Federation President already had a replacement in mind. He knew she wouldn't be happy about the promotion, but he knew she'd be a good soldier and do as ordered.

After the CSO departed his office, Barkin activated the hotline to Romulus. A few moments later he found himself looking at a visibly hostile Praetor.

"Do not tell me you are calling to admit you are in error and that you are recalling your ships," the haughty Romulan said sarcastically.

"Actually, I am," Barkin said. "We messed up. I'm standing down our forces."

The Romulan stared at Barkin. "You 'messed up'?" he sputtered.

"Yes. Messed up. Dropped the ball. Your guy was telling the truth. I should have listened to him when he insisted you didn't have the vortex inducer."

"I see," the Romulan said. "Is this part of some ploy to test us? I must admit that a doomsday weapon capable of destroying entire planets sounded rather fanciful."

Barkin looked coolly at his fellow leader. "No, the weapon is all too real," the former teacher replied. "It really can be used to blow up a planet. Earth. _Qo'noS_. Even Romulus."

"What are you going to do," the Romulan inquired.

"We're pretty sure we know where it is and we're dealing with it," Barkin replied. "That's all I'm going to say."

"I see. And with that assurance, the crisis between our peoples is resolved," the Romulan said with a faint smirk. "You know, I should be outraged. You accused us of lying, of planning to launch a premeditated sneak attack. However, I think you may be the first politician I have dealt with in more than a century who is honest enough to admit he made a mistake. That is very refreshing, though I still cannot say I trust you."

"The feeling's mutual, Praetor. There's a reason I didn't believe your ambassador," Barkin observed. "So we'll have to find a way around that. When this crisis is over I want to meet. You and me. Man to man. This got out of control far too fast. We need to address the lack of trust between our governments. We may have different interests and may not even like one another, but we're both stuck in the same quadrant of this galaxy."

The Romulan looked at Barkin for what seemed a long time. "I will tell our ships to return to their normal stations," he said before a superior smile formed on his face.  
"I look forward to meeting you, President Barkin. Perhaps I will be the first Romulan leader to travel to your world."

"It would be my pleasure to welcome you to Earth," Barkin said. _I just hope that when this is over there's still an Earth for me to welcome you to_, he thought.

VIII.

While Kim was contacting Worf and Barkin and Rufus was in the hangar bay supervising repairs to _Calypso_, Ron was in _Gorkon_'s infirmary, where the ship's doctor was removing the pain inducer.

"Stop squirming!" the physician barked.

Ron did his best not to move while the man worked. The doctor seemed competent enough, but Ron was convinced the man would really benefit from some lessons in bedside manner from Doctor Crusher.

"Sit still," the man ordered before Ron felt a jolt of pain in his neck.

"Owww!" Ron cried out. "Man, that hurt!"

"And that, my young friend, is the last time it shall do that!" the Klingon announced triumphantly as he brandished the now removed device.

Ron reached up to rub his neck but was stopped by the physician, who roughly grabbed his hand.

"I must treat the wound first," he snapped.

"Gotcha," Ron replied.

The Klingon applied a salve to his patient's neck, then ran a medical device over the affected area. Ron could feel the pain recede.

"I am done," the doctor declared. "Now be gone, in case I need this bed for someone who is truly sick or injured."

Just as Ron hopped off the table on which he'd been sitting, Grilka and Kim walked in.

"Hey, KP, Grilka," Ron offered in greeting.

Kim smiled, then looked at Ron's neck. She reached up and caressed the spot where the pain inducer had been. "Nice to see that thing's gone. It was such the fashion disaster."

Ron grinned. "I gotta tell you, KP," he said, "your hand feels a lot better than that thing!"

"Glad to hear it," she said warmly.

Kim and Ron enjoyed a brief quiet moment; then Kim's expression turned serious.

"What is it, KP?" Ron asked.

Kim turned to Grilka. "Is there a place where the three of us can talk? I don't think we should disturb the doctor."

"Follow me," the Klingon said. Kim and Ron followed the woman until they reached a nondescript room. "This place is secure," she said as she placed her hand on a biometric scanner. The door opened and they walked in.

As they took seats, Kim said, "Grilka, I don't know how much of what I'm about to tell you your government knows. I know you've already gone out on a limb for us and I don't want to offend you, but I need to ask you, on your honor as a warrior, to keep what I'm about to tell you totally secret."

"You have earned the right to ask that, Consort," Grilka said.

"Enough with the 'Consort' already," Kim said, trying not to sound exasperated. "It's Kim, okay?"

The Klingon nodded.

Kim looked at Ron. "The PDVI is on _Enterprise_."

"So we just call Captain Picard and we're coolio!" Ron exclaimed.

"Excuse me, but what is a PDVI?" Grilka asked. Kim described the weapon to the Klingon, who snorted. "And people say Klingons are warlike. None of our kind ever developed anything so destructive."

"Consider yourselves lucky," Kim observed before looking at her husband. "Ron, according to Worf, Lore's plan …"

"Lore? The guy we dreamed about?" a shocked Ron replied. "He's real?"

Kim grimaced and nodded before continuing. "So real. He's Data's twin brother."

"Okay, this is just getting too strange. I mean what are the odds that …" Ron trailed off when Kim shot him a look that said, 'keep your head in the game.'

"Here's the sitch," she explained. "Assuming Lore has been able to implement his plan, the saucer section and the secondary hull have separated. The warp core is in the secondary hull, so we can assume that's the part of the ship Lore and his synthodrones would want. The crew, which he's incapacitated, would be in the saucer section."

"Uh, Kim, let's say Grilka here didn't know what a synthodrone was …"

"It's a low-budget version of an android," Kim said, trying not to smirk at Ron's usual formula for communicating that he didn't understand something and needed an explanation.

"If your ship has been divided, we will be needed in two places," Grilka observed.

"That's right," Kim agreed.

"What's the plan, then, KP?" Ron asked in a way that told her he was going with her, whatever she proposed.

Kim looked at her husband. Two weeks earlier she would have dismissed that out of hand: Ron, a civilian, had no training. But in the days since his arrival, Kim had seen how resourceful he could be. And she knew that her goofy best friend-turned-husband had been that way for a long time – as long ago as that day on Olympus Mons all those years ago. She suddenly realized there was no way she was going on this mission without him.

Kim pursed her lips and rested her chin on her steepled fingers. "Grilka takes Rufus back to _Enterprise_; he and the Klingons can reactivate systems or, if necessary, evacuate the crew to _Gorkon_. We'll go after Lore."

"I know the two of you are fierce warriors," Grilka said, "but do you think it prudent to do this on your own?"

"There's no other option," Kim replied. "The two of us should be able to slip on board undetected. From what we've been told, we should be able to evade the synthodrones, disable the PDVI, and take _Enterprise_'s engines off line. As smart and as strong as Lore is, he can only do so much and he won't be expecting us. We just have to hope he hasn't activated the PDVI and opened his wormhole."

"Will you need anything for this mission?" Grilka asked.

"Yes," Kim answered. "A cloaking device."

IX.

Kim, Ron, and Grilka strode into the hangar; _Calypso_ was in the center of the bay, surrounded by Klingon fighter craft. The sleek Starfleet vessel, once gleaming white, now battle-scarred, stood out from the brackish green ships parked by its flanks. As the trio approached _Calypso_, Rufus climbed out of the hatch, followed by three Klingon engineers.

"Status, Rufus?" Kim asked.

"She may no longer be pretty, but _Calypso_ is fully operational," he replied with pride. "Warp engines, weapons, deflectors – and cloaking device – are all fully functional."

"Spankin'," she said. "Well, this is it."

As Kim and Ron prepared to board, Ron turned to Grilka. "Hey, I hope this isn't out of line or anything," he said, "but _mi casa_ is your _casa_."

Grilka looked at Ron in confusion as Kim rolled her eyes.

"'My house is your house'," Kim explained. "Ron's saying you're a part of his House."

"_Our_ House," Ron corrected his wife, who smiled in return and mouthed the words "my bad."

Grilka inclined her head. "I am honored to be a member of the House of Stoppable and look forward to celebrating our victory with you upon your return. _Qapla_!"

Kim and Ron returned the Klingon greeting, then turned to Rufus.

"Thanks for everything," Kim said as she embraced the naked mole rat. "You rock."

"Dude, what she said," Ron said as he, too, hugged Rufus. "We'll make some nachos when we get back."

Rufus looked at Kim. "I look forward to serving under you again … Captain," he said before he turned to Ron. "And I will look forward to preparing Tex-Mex with you." Rufus then clasped Kim's and Ron's hands in his. "Be careful and good luck, Kim and Ron Stoppable," the mole rat said in his deep baritone. "The fate of the future, humanity, and the planet Earth itself rests in your hands."

X.

"We have you on visual," Rufus said.

"Okay," Kim replied. "I'm activating the cloak … now."

"We have lost all sign of you," Rufus said, a satisfied smile spreading across his usually stern face. "You are cloaked. Good luck."

"You too, Rufus," Kim answered. "Stoppable out."

Kim ended the transmission, then set _Calypso_ on a course to _Enterprise__'_s most likely location, assuming Lore was heading towards Earth but had not yet opened the wormhole. Kim was assuming that he'd failed to do so since there had been no reports on any sub-space channels of the destruction of the capital world of the Federation.

"So, how long until we catch up with _Enterprise_?" Ron asked.

"If my calculations are correct," Kim answered, "Forty-seven minutes."

"Interested in a dose of Ronshine?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Kim sighed. "Ferociously interested," she replied, laying a hand on his thigh and firmly planting a kiss on his lips. "But that's all we have time for. We have to get ready."

"Ready for what? Aren't we just gonna fly up and beam in?"

"Ron, we can't use the transporter without dropping the cloaking device …"

Ron looked perplexed.

"… We're trying to be sneaky here," Kim explained.

"Got it, KP," he said. "So, how are going to get on board?"

"Through the back door," she said with a grin.

"What do you mean?"

"Ron, do you remember your EVA training?" Kim asked.

"Sure do, KP," he answered. "Whoa! You don't mean …"

Kim's grin grew into a predatory smile. "I think it's time for us to take a little walk."

XI.

"Oh yes! I am da man! I am da android!" Lore exulted as he scanned his handiwork. The universal adapter functioned and had been affixed to the small canister, which had been hotwired into _Enterprise_'s deflector control system.

Lore began rummaging through his memory banks and hit upon a song that fit his mood. Though it wasn't a show tune, the song from the early 21st century animated TV series seemed especially appropriate. He began singing as he headed back to the Battle Bridge.

_I'm ready for you  
Are you ready for me?  
I'm invincible, and I can do anything.  
I'm ready to go  
Are you ready to see?  
Don't you know that  
It's impossible to stop me _

XII.

"Man, that is just sick and wrong," Ron said as they approached the saucer-less _Enterprise_.

"Tell me about it," Kim agreed. "Lore is so going to pay for this. You ready?"

"Ready for anything, Kimbo," he said with a grin. "Got my sword," he said holding up his weapon, "got my barf bag," he said, patting the pocket of his EVA suit.

Kim shot him a look, then leaned and gave him a kiss. "Whatever happens, remember I love you."

Ron gently laid his fingertips on her cheek. "If I don't know that by now, I don't think I ever will, KP."

"Okay, time to get our heads in the game," she said. "You know what to do?"

"You can count on me, Kim," Ron answered.

"Then it's time for us to pay a visit to Lore," she said with fierce determination.

She turned back to her control panel. "Computer, match speed and course with _Enterprise_."

"Speed and course matched," the ship replied.

"Okay, Ron, let's do it," Kim said as she donned her helmet.

Ron did likewise and followed Kim to _Calypso_'s small airlock. Once the door to the main cabin slid shut behind them, they each checked the systems on their EVA suits, then exchanged a thumbs-up. Then they hefted on their jet packs, checked those and, once again each let the other know that his or her systems were on line.

Kim then entered the commands to open the outer hatch; the door slid open and Kim and Ron floated out into space.

"Activating jet pack," she said.

"Pack activated," Ron replied.

Kim headed towards _Enterprise_. She pulled out her Kimmunicator and pressed the call button.

"Kim?" Wade said, surprised to see Kim wearing an EVA helmet with a starfield behind her. "Where are you?"

"About five meters from _Enterprise_'s deflector shield. Think you can modulate the phase harmonics so Ron and I can slip through?"

"Don't see why not," he replied before taking a sip of his Slurpster. "Okay, you should be good to go."

Kim and Ron quickly made their way through the small breach. Once inside _Enterprise_'s protective envelope she had Wade seal the hole.

"Wade, we may need your help again, soon," Kim said.

"You want me to stand by?"

"Please and thank you," she answered before turning to Ron. "Okay, let's go."

Kim and Ron maneuvered to the bottom of _Enterprise_'s hull. "That's it," she said, pointing to a hatch. "We should be able to access the ship's environmental control systems from here."

"And what will we do once we've done that?"

"Duh. Crawl through them," Kim answered as if that was obvious. She didn't realize that she'd become so comfortable with the idea of Ron being in the field with her that she'd forgotten he'd not had Starfleet training in how to infiltrate an enemy position.

Ron was about to say something when the Kimmunicator began beeping.

"Wade, what up?" Kim asked.

"I'm detecting a rapid build-up in verteron particles," Wade answered.

"Snap," Kim swore.

"Kim?" Ron asked, not sure of what was going on. He knew he'd heard the word 'verteron' before; he just wasn't sure where, though he was confident it wasn't a good thing. "What's going on?"

"Ron, Lore's opening up a wormhole. We so don't want to be out here when that happens."

"Gotcha. What do you want to do?"

Kim entered a series of commands into the LCARS panel next to the airlock, then waited in vain for a red light to turn green. Then she tried activating the manual override control on the hatch. Much to her frustration, the door still wasn't opening.

"Wade, I can use your help," Kim said.

"Okay," he said. "I'm establishing a link between the Kimmunicator and the LCARS interface."

Kim was not happy when she saw a crease form in Wade's normally smooth brow.

"Sorry, Kim," he said apologetically. "I'm not having any luck."

"This so can't be happening," she muttered in annoyance.

"Uh, KP," Ron said nervously, "I know I've only been out here a few days, but space isn't supposed to look like that, is it?"

Kim took a peek over her shoulder and her eyes grew wide as she saw the very fabric of space rippling. The black, velvety starfield was beginning to morph into something resembling a blue-flecked tornado funnel. "No, Ron, it isn't," she said as she began pulling on the handle, hoping the lock might just come loose. "This is going to be so the drama if we don't get inside."

Ron pulled with Kim, then looked at the LCARS panel. "'Scuse me, KP," he said, gently nudging her aside.

"Ron," she said, an edge to her voice, "we don't have time to fool around."

"I know that, Kimbo," he said. "I just want to try something," he added as he raised his gloved hand. He then slammed his palm down on the unresponsive control unit. Much to Kim's surprise, the red light on the panel flashed green and the airlock handle began to rotate open. She and Ron quickly scrambled in, then closed the door behind them.

"How?" she asked.

"It's all in the wrist," Ron explained. "Or so I guessed. It always seemed to work for Dad when the old holomonitor acted up."

XIII.

Picard thought he saw figures in space suits materialize on the bridge; he wasn't sure, though. He felt drowsy and light-headed. He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt any other way. He wondered who the visitors were and what they wanted.

XIV.

Rufus growled as he took in the sight of his crewmates slumped in their seats on the bridge. He made his way to the main engineering station and shook his head. Then he turned to Grilka, who had accompanied him to assess the situation. The naked mole rat and his Klingon companions were all wearing EVA suits.

Grilka used the Klingon equivalent of a tricorder to perform a scan. "There is a high concentration of trioxybenzahydrine in the air. And oxygen levels are falling. We must act quickly."

"Agreed," Rufus said. "Our priority will be to get main life support back on line. Then we can proceed to purge _Enterprise_ of the gas and restore the ship's other systems."

The Klingon nodded, then pressed a button on her suit. "_Gorkon_, this is Grilka. Send the following personnel over to _Enterprise_…"

XV.

Kim and Ron shed their EVA suits so they could move quickly. Kim checked her phaser, Ron the bat'leth. Then they checked their comm badges, which were provided by the Klingons, and their portable breathing apparatus. Kim knew Lore could always cut life support, though she doubted he'd do that: in doing so, he'd suffocate his synthodrones. A scan from the recesses of one of _Enterprise_'s life support tunnels had revealed that the artificial life forms required oxygen, just like humans, if they were to function.

Kim knew that the one thing they did not have was time. She had to assume that Lore's opening of the wormhole was successful and that they'd shortly be in the Sol system. If they didn't locate and disarm the PDVI quickly, Earth would be at Lore's mercy. She activated the Kimmunicator; she hoped that her transmissions were as secure as Wade claimed they'd be since she really needed his help.

"Wade, can you scan for verteron particles?" she asked.

"Sure can, Kim," he replied. "Whoa, the whole ship's saturated with them. What's going on there?"

"We're in a wormhole, Wade …"

"Heading for Earth?" he asked.

"Yes," Kim said. "Are you there?" she asked, realizing she had no idea as to where he actually was.

"Nope …" he replied.

She breathed an inward sigh of relief knowing at least Wade was safe.

"… Kim, why'd you want me to scan for verteron particles?"

"I was hoping you could track the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer. Lore's using _Enterprise_'s engines to generate the wormhole."

"And he somehow has to get the energy out of the ship. If I were him, I'd use the main deflector array," Wade said, speaking to himself as much as to Kim. "Which means I should be able to trace an energy stream back from deflector control to the source. Got it! It's been wired into a secondary deflector control EPS conduit on Deck 17. Would you like me to send you a schematic?"

"Please and thank you," Kim replied, not wanting to know how he got that information. For the time being, she wanted to focus on completing the mission; Wade's apparent hacking escapades of her father's or Starfleet's databases could be addressed some other time. "Okay, I've got the file. Thanks, Wade."

She ended the call, then looked over her shoulder at Ron. "Let's go," she said.

XVI.

They silently crawled through the network of tubes and shafts that lined _Enterprise_'s massive hull.

"Man, I didn't realize I was going to be getting such a workout today," Ron quipped.

Kim turned and shushed him. "We're trying to be sneaky here, remember?"

"Oops, sorry. My bad," he whispered.

Kim shook her head, smiled, winked and continued leading the way.

"The PDVI should be around the next corner," she said as she looked at the Kimmunicator's display. "Snap," she hissed.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Synthodrones. We have to divert their attention. Ron, can you provide a distraction?"

He grinned. "One distraction coming right up, KP."

"Thanks," she said. As Ron slipped by her they exchanged a quick peck. Then he unsheathed the bat'leth and turned the corner.

"Hey dudes," he announced to the surprised synthodrones, "I'm Ron, what are your names?"

The simulacra looked at one another, then made their way towards him. Ron was surprised at how quick the hulking synthodrones appeared to be. He spied a Jefferies tube and quickly scrambled down it and out into a corridor, hoping the guards would pursue him.

XVII.

Lore looked at the padd the synthodrone handed him.

_Intruder alert, Deck 17_, the text read.

Lore pulled a face, then asked "How many?" He wished the synthodrones weren't mute.

_One_, the synthodrone wrote in reply

"Neutralize it," the android ordered. "And perform a scan of the ship, beginning with Deck 17, to make sure there aren't any others."

XVIII.

Ron found himself surrounded by synthodrones.

"So, you guys must be pretty tight," he said with a nervous laugh. "Wearing the same outfits and everything."

As they advanced on him, Ron dropped to the deck and quickly crawled between their legs. Then he popped up to his feet and began running again, hoping to draw the synthodrones further away from Kim.

XIX.

_There is another intruder on Deck 17_, the message on the padd read.

"Where?" Lore demanded.

The synthodrone took the padd, then wrote its reply: _At the secondary EPS conduit_.

Lore cursed himself for not anticipating this possibility. He had assumed that matters would unfold so quickly that he wouldn't need to devise elaborate security measures. Now his complacency was coming back to haunt him.

XX.

Kim checked the Kimmunicator again. The way to the PDVI was clear, at least for the moment. It wasn't long before she saw the glowing green band of the canister-like device up ahead. When she reached it, she performed a scan.

She was reading the data from the scan when she heard a familiar voice over the ship's comm system.

"I don't know who you are, but I know you're in there …"

Kim grimaced. She knew that wasn't Data speaking to her.

"… And I know what you're planning to do," Lore said. "You do know that if you unplug the PDVI now the wormhole will collapse on us and we'll all be destroyed."

XXI.

Ron was once again surrounded. But this time there were even more synthodrones. He dropped into a crouch.

"Okay, if this is how you want it," he said as he began brandishing his weapon. "It's smackdown in my town!"

He then surprised his opponents by charging them, swinging the bat'leth in large, graceful arcs. He slashed at one of the synthodrones and watched green goo gush from the opening in its front.

"That is sick and wrong!" Ron said, making a face before adding, "But I can work with it."

He swung his blade and decapitated another of the artificial life forms, then another. As he continued fighting, Ron wondered just how many synthodrones were aboard _Enterprise_.

XXII.

Kim heard someone crawling along the shaft and knew it wasn't Ron. He wouldn't sneak up on her.

She knew she really didn't have any choice. She had to deactivate the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer

The PDVI was nestled in a module mounted in the bulkhead. The unit had two handles for removal from the wall; one could simply take the grips in hand and pull. But this module had a series of colorful isolinear chips arrayed along the top of the front of its face. Kim recognized them as security chips. She couldn't say why, but the pattern seemed familiar: white, orange, purple, black, red.

She continued to look at the chips; then she recalled her conversation with Q in the Continuum and the sequence he had her memorize: Alpha-White-Beta-Orange-Gamma-Purple-Delta-Black-Epsilon-Red.

Kim then recalled the second series: Alpha-Orange-Beta-White-Gamma-Black-Delta-Purple-Epsilon-Red.

_Or is it Delta-Red-Epsilon-Purple?_ she asked herself, cursing herself for not having an eidetic memory.

Then she remembered how Q instructed her to share the sequence with Ron. She prayed that he knew it. Then she pressed her comm device.

"Ron, do you remember those two sequences of letters and colors I told you a few days ago?"

"Kinda busy, Kimbo!" he said frantically.

"This is ferociously important," she said with urgency.

"Hey, back off, dude!" he yelled. "Sequences? What se– oh, you mean Alpha-White-Beta-Orange-Gamma-Purple-Delta-Black-Epsilon-Red and … Hey! Get off me you goo-filled freak of nature! Oww! I know I'm going to need those!"

"Ron!" Kim said impatiently.

"Sorry, KP. Alpha-Orange-Beta-White-Gamma-Black-Delta-Purple-Epsilon-Red."

"You're sure about the second one?" she asked.

"Yeah" he answered. "Get off me! Sorry. You said, quote, 'Q also had me memorize this: Alpha-Orange-Beta-White-Gamma-Black-Delta-Purple-Epsilon-Red.' End Quote."

"Thanks," she replied as she began switching the chips. She paused, then, wondering whether she'd ever get to speak to her best-friend/husband again, said wistfully, "Ron, I love you."

"I love you too, KP."

Then she felt something grab her right foot. She screamed as a strong hand began squeezing.

"Kim? KP, are you all right?" Ron yelled.

The pain was awful; she had no doubt her foot had just been crushed. She turned to look over her shoulder and saw an enraged Lore glaring at her.

"I'd really prefer you left that where it is … KP," the malevolent android said venomously.

Kim Stoppable knew she was out of time. She tried kicking out with her other leg, but Lore grabbed her left foot and brutally crushed it, too.

Fighting to suppress the now overwhelming pain and struggling to maintain her focus, Kim switched the last two isolinear chips. Then, knowing she was about to destabilize the wormhole and destroy _Enterprise_, she gripped the two handles on the module and pulled, decoupling the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer from the universal adapter.

_TBC …_


	27. Chapter 27

Thanks to whitem, calamite, captainkodak1, Uru Baen, Yankee Bard, Dr. J0nes, Whisper from the Shadows, JPMod, Josh84, mattb3671, Atomic Fire, Zaratan, surforst, CajunBear73, Nightwing 509, kim's 1 fan, RealityBreakGirl, spectre666, Ace Ian Combat, Joe Stoppingham, Ezbok58a, conan98002, daywalkr82, US.Steele, Molloy, Taechunsa, and TexasDad for reviewing and to everyone for reading.

A case of Romulan Ale plus a bottle of Saurian Brandy to campy for beta reading this final chapter. The same goes to Molloy and Mrs. Molloy, who did a most admirable job as special guest proofreaders.

Write a review, get a response, seriously.

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

I.

The sound of two hands repeatedly being brought together slowly and rhythmically echoed throughout the darkened New Middleton High School auditorium. Kim looked around the cavernous room and saw the spotlighted source of the clapping sitting about two-thirds of the way back. He was a well-dressed man who appeared to be in his early forties. He had a handsome face with a long nose, dimples framing his skewed grin, and eyes that twinkled, all framed by sandy blond hair that was worn rakishly long.

"Not bad! You're pretty good," he enthused.

Kim frowned. "Q."

"In the flesh," he said, his arms outstretched. "How'd you guess?"

"Obvious much?" she answered, sounding annoyed. "I'm in an empty auditorium on Mars wearing clothes I last had on when I was sixteen. And my feet aren't broken. Now what's going on? Where am I? This doesn't look like the Continuum."

"It's not," he agreed. "We're in your insignificant hometown of New Middleton on your backwater of a homeworld, some place called Mart. Or is it Marx?"

"Mars," she said testily. "Where's Ron?" she then asked. "What happened to Earth?"

"Do you remember what you were doing when you were last wearing those clothes?" Q replied.

Kim looked at her outfit, a lime green top and blue pants, then around the room. "I was in the talent show. Ron signed me up, hoping I'd beat Bonnie."

"That's right. That was quite the performance you put on. You even hit the high note," Q said. "But you didn't win, did you?"

"No, Ron did," she answered. "After he signed me up I decided turnabout was fair play and made him compete, too."

"Well, Kim," Q said, "it's talent show night all over again. You hit the high notes. But you ain't taking home first prize."

"Meaning?" she asked, suddenly feeling a chill, as she grew most uncomfortable with where this was all going.

"You saved Earth. Nine billion hapless sentient beings owe you their drab little lives. Too bad you didn't wait another seven seconds. You could have had it all."

"What are you talking about?" Kim asked, her anxiety mounting.

"Yep. Seven seconds and you would have come out of the wormhole before it collapsed. But, all things considered, not a bad price to pay. Sure, you lost the secondary hull of _Enterprise_ and Ron …"

"What?" she interjected as the blood drained from her cheeks.

"The ship," Q explained nonchalantly. "It was destroyed when the wormhole collapsed. But the saucer part's okay so they should be able to hook it up to…"

"Hello!" Kim yelled. "I don't care about the stupid ship! What happened to Ron?"

"He was on board. So were you. But I pulled you off just in the nick of time …"

Kim stared at Q in shock as the implications of what he was saying sank in.

"… This is where you can say 'thanks,' you know."

"Ron's … gone?" Kim said in weak voice before dropping to her knees. "He can't be …"

"If it's any consolation," Q observed, "his atoms will wind up in an absolutely stunning nebula that will form in a few hundred million years."

II.

Steve Barkin stood by the window, his hands behind his back. He looked out over the manicured gardens and toward the Eiffel Tower. His office was bathed in sunlight. Normally, he would have enjoyed the view. But today he looked at the cloudless sky and wondered whether this would be the last afternoon he'd ever see.

For the third time that day he'd received an unauthorized call. The first had been from Saavik, the second from Kim Stoppable. The third was from a young man named Wade Load who said he was a friend of the two women. Wade wanted to let Barkin know that Lore had successfully opened a wormhole and would soon arrive at Earth. However, there was a possibility that the android would be foiled – Kim and Ron had managed to get on board _Enterprise_ and were trying to disable the PDVI.

Barkin, who was most at ease when taking charge of a situation, realized there was nothing more he could to stop Lore. The fate of the Earth was in Kim and Ron's hands. He prayed they were successful – and tried to forget just how many times Ron had to take his Flyer's Ed test before he passed.

III.

Q was surprised by the speed with which Kim was on him. She'd catapulted herself from the stage, her palms touching the floor just before the first row of seats. She continued forward, executing a perfect series of handsprings, touching the tops of the seat backs as she propelled herself forward. He should have known the attack was coming, but he wasn't accustomed to being assaulted by mere mortals. Q once again found himself at a loss as to why Q kept taking on corporeal form; the sensation of Kim's boots driving into his chest was most unpleasant.

"Bring him back. Now!" she demanded after she flipped over his seat and put him in a vice-like headlock.

"Sorry, not gonna happen," Q wheezed in protest. "But, if you want, you can."

"What are you talking about, you omnipotent freak?" she asked, her words infused with fury.

A bright flash filled the room and the Q with whom she was familiar appeared a few seats down the row from the Q with whom she'd been talking. He, too, was illuminated by a spotlight.

"Quite the spitfire, isn't she?" the dark-haired Q said to the other Q before turning to Kim. "It's really quite simple, Kimberly," he said. "You just snap your fingers and Rondo will be back among the living."

"'Splain. Now," she said impatiently.

"You said you'd give your life for him, am I correct?" Q asked.

"Yes," she snapped. "You want me to trade my life for his? Done."

The other Q, looking disappointed, shook his head. "You said she was bright. That she had potential. Sure, she's fast and packs a mean wallop but …"

"She is and she does," the dark-haired Q snapped. "They just don't expect this."

"You two are really beginning to tweak me," Kim growled. "Tell me what's going on. Now."

Q sighed. "Fine. You've been to the Continuum. You've seen how stagnant it is."

"What's this got to do with Ron?" Kim demanded.

"We need some new blood to spice things up. We want you."

"You want me? To do what?"

"Become Q."

"Excuse me?" a nonplussed Kim said.

"What part of what I said isn't clear? We," Q said pointing to himself and Q, "want you," he continued, pointing at Kim, "to become Q. All you have to do is snap your fingers and you'll be one of us. All-powerful. Just think of it Kimberly: you'll be able to eradicate disease. Injustice. Stop war. Your boastful little motto, 'I can do anything' will no longer be just an arrogant sentiment. It will be true." Q paused, then added, "You'll even be able to bring back your precious little Ron."

"What's the catch?" she asked suspiciously.

"There's no catch," Q said.

"What if I want to stay in this universe with Ron?" she asked.

"That's your affair. If you want, you can stay with Ronniepoo, even go to that ghastly Bueno Nacho back on Mars everyday," Q said. "You'll be able to do whatever you want, Kimberly Ann. Just think about it."

Kim loosened her grip on Q.

She didn't care about being all-powerful or changing the course of history.

But she did care about Ron.

She loved him.

And she couldn't imagine living without him.

But she knew there had to be some kind of catch. She remembered how, as part of her security officer's briefing, she'd read about Riker's short spell as a Q and how quickly he'd changed. He'd become insufferably arrogant and patronizing.

But he'd also had the opportunity to save lives, indeed, restore them.

As a Q, she could restore Ron. And with Ron in her life, she was sure she could resist temptation. He'd always helped her keep her perspective. He, after all, was the one who'd helped her regain her natural Kimmitude in less than two weeks. If he could rescue her from losing her sense of self because of a relationship, he could ensure she remained true to herself now. Ron could do that, he was her compass, just as she was his. Together, they could make this work.

Kim snapped her fingers.

IV.

"Mr. Rufus, report," a groggy Jean-Luc Picard inquired as he rose to his feet.

"Main life support is back on-line and the trioxybenzohydrine has been neutralized," the mole rat answered. "We have quarantined the virus. All other systems should be operational within the hour."

"Very good," the captain said before looking at the Klingon female standing beside Rufus. "Grilka, you have my thanks. I hope you will not think it rude of me to ask what you are doing here, however."

"Not at all," she replied before explaining the situation.

"I hope Kim and Ron are all right," Riker said after Grilka finished telling her story.

"As do I, Number One," Picard agreed. "However, based on the way those two have handled themselves so far, I think Lore may be in for a few surprises …"

V.

Ron looked around, clearly confused. He had just been on _Enterprise_, hacking down synthodrones as he ran towards Kim. He had experienced an incredible adrenaline surge when he heard her scream and had been moving with a speed he didn't know he had.

Now he was sitting next to Kim in a darkened New Middleton High School auditorium, wondering why they were being illuminated by theatre spotlights.

"KP?" he asked.

"Ron!" she replied as she threw her arms around him. "You're okay!"

"Yeah, I guess I am," he said. "Uh, Kimbo, what's going on? Are we in a holodeck or something?"

"Tell him!" Q said excitedly.

"Tell me what?" Ron asked, surprised to see Q and another man with them.

"Go on," Q urged her. "It's nothing to be ashamed of you know," he added huffily.

"Uh, I joined the Continuum," she said sheepishly.

Ron looked at her and blinked.

"He's really rather obtuse," Q said to Q. "But he makes a risotto to die for."

"I don't understand this repugnant fascination you have with food," Q said. "You know, he's rather ugly, too," he observed.

"Kim, what's going on?" Ron asked with mounting trepidation. "This is beginning to freak me out."

"Ron," she said gently, taking his hands in hers, "I'm one of the Q now."

"You're one of the Q?" he parroted.

Kim nodded.

"You mean you have god-like powers? You can do anything?"

Kim nodded again.

"God-like powers rock!" Ron enthused.

Kim breathed a sigh of relief. "So you're okay with this?"

"What's not to be okay with?" he asked. "We'll never have to stand in line at the grocery store! You'll always be able to find parking. Ooo! Ooo! You'll be able to take us to a twentieth century ball game! I'll be able to see the Red Sox beat the Yankees in the 2004 ALCS!"

Kim smiled and rolled her eyes. _Leave it to Ron to view my new omnipotence with childlike wonder_, she thought. Then her expression turned serious.

"Ron," she said. "These powers are … tempting. I'm going to need you help me keep things in perspective."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Softly, she answered. "A few minutes ago you didn't exist."

"What?" he exclaimed, clearly confused.

"_Enterprise_ was crushed by the wormhole and you were still on board. Q brought me here and told me that if I joined them, I could do anything. Even bring you back."

Ron grew very still. Nobody was ever going to accuse Ron Stoppable of being his generation's Einstein, Hawking, Cochrane, or Soong. But there were times when he was prone to insight.

"I shouldn't be here," he said much to Kim's surprise and the annoyance of Q and Q. "This is wrong on so many levels."

"Ron?" Kim asked.

"I'm supposed to be a million billion atoms floating around space. But since you really can do anything, you just put me back together."

Kim frowned at Ron, who sounded … displeased. "And that's a problem why?" she asked.

Ron took a deep breath. "Can you fix my face?" he asked.

"What?"

"You heard me. Can you fix my face?" Ron asked again.

"No big," she said as she snapped her fingers.

Ron found himself looking at Kim through two eyes. He tentatively reached up to his cheek; there were no longer any scars.

"How about make me smart? Like your dad or mom."

Kim seemed hesitant. "I don't know."

"'I don't know' as in I can't do that or 'I don't know' as in I don't know if I should do that?"

"I don't know as in 'I don't think that's a good idea'. And I do know what's best for you, Ron."

"Uh huh. Just like you did when you had me get that haircut back in sophomore year of high school."

"That was so different," Kim said.

"How so, KP?"

"Because now I really do know what's best for you. Literally. It comes with being omniscient."

"Badical," he said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Can you tell me when you're going to leave me?"

Kim's jaw dropped. "I'm not going to leave you Ron. I love you. You know that."

"Yeah, I do," he said, taking her hands in his. "But here's the problem, KP. You're all-powerful and all-knowing. Me, I'm just a human with less than average brainage. Someday, you're going to get bored hanging with me. Then you'll leave …"

"That is so not true!" she protested.

"Of course you could always make me forget about us," he said, considering the possibilities.

"Ron, your logic is so flawed," she huffed. "You're my husband and my best friend."

"And you're my wife and my best friend. But you can travel through space and time and I can't. You don't need me."

"Ron, I've always needed you," she said. "I always will need you."

"KP, this isn't like the head cheerleader having the goofy but irresistible Rondo as her best friend or you needing a sidekick on Olympus Mons," he countered.

"Ron …"

"Kim, listen to me. You literally don't need me anymore. Do you realize you could go back in time to when we were teens and fix the weather generators on Mars? No more storm. No more need for a rescue. You can go back to the Academy and beat the Kobayashi Maru. No more need for Seven Layers of Heaven. You can go back to pre-K and transfer that Andorian bully to another school system. No more need for Rondo to try to save you."

Kim looked at Ron and realized that all he said was factually correct. She wondered what she would do when Ron did something to irk her. In the past she'd simply shrug it off; such was the price of being friends – and more recently, intimate – with him. But now she could change things. She could cure him of his sometimes-annoying fear of monkeys and spiders. She could make it so he never belched again. Or said random things when she was feeling short-tempered. Or indeed make him the intellectual equal of her parents. She could even make him her intellectual equal. She could even make him a Q. She could change him into anything – anyone – she wanted.

That frightened her.

She looked at her husband's healed faced and shuddered. With just a snap of her fingers she had made him whole. But suddenly that didn't feel right. It was like being a potter molding clay. Or a puppeteer pulling the strings. Ron wasn't her best friend-turned-husband; he was someone – something – she could manipulate.

She reached up to his face and traced her fingers along his cheek.

"Faustus," she said quietly.

"Huh?" Ron said.

"Nothing," Kim said as she smiled sadly and shook her head. "For a C student, you're pretty darned smart, Ron Stoppable."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Kim, still looking at Ron, spoke to Q. "Ron's right. This is wrong. It so won't work. I don't want to be a Q."

"You know what will happen if we send you back," the sandy-haired Q said.

"I do. But Earth will be safe. And we'll go together," Kim said as she looked into her husband's eyes.

"KP, it's okay!" he said frantically as he realized what she was doing. "You don't have to do this. I'm cool with you being omnipotent. I don't care if you outgrow me! Really!"

"Ron, are you saying that because you're afraid to die?" she asked.

He looked away. He wanted to lie to her. But he realized he couldn't. She was still omniscient.

"No," he said, his voice barely audible. "I just don't want you to die."

"Don't worry, Ron. It's so not the drama," she said.

"You sure?" he croaked.

"So sure," Kim said as she leaned in to kiss him.

And then, in a blinding flash of light, she and Ron were gone, returned to _Enterprise_.

VI.

Kim and Ron's families were moved and honored when the town of New Middleton renamed the high school after their children and erected a statue of the two best friends turned lovers in the local park. The monument, which depicted Kim and Ron racing into action while holding hands, was made of bronze and was expected to weather nicely with age; as soon as it was unveiled it became a source of inspiration for those seeking to do great things or fall in love.

The sun shone bright and strong the day the memorial was dedicated. One of the largest crowds New Middleton had ever known gathered for the ceremony. Hometown boy-turned-galactic leader Steve Barkin made the trip from Earth to attend the ceremony, as did Captain Jean-Luc Picard, representing Starfleet, and Grilka, who was present on behalf of the Klingon Empire. The Romulan ambassador was there, too, as a gesture of appreciation to the two heroes for averting an unwanted war between the Federation and his people.

Bonnie Rockwaller, who was still on loan to Starfleet from the Federation Diplomatic Corps, had been tasked with organizing the event. She had always wanted to be at the center of important events, and now she was, responsible for an occasion involving the leaders of three of the great interstellar empires, though she was bemused that her success was due to none other than Kim Possible; even in death, her erstwhile rival seemed to play a role in determining the course of Bonnie's life. She looked down at her padd and was pleased to see that all was proceeding according to schedule. It was time for President Barkin to speak.

The gruff former schoolteacher rose from his seat and strode to the podium and began to speak, first of two kids he had known, a spunky cheerleader and her slacker buddy. He told stories of how those two would pop up around town helping people. And he recounted the story of their first real moment of glory: the rescue effort on Olympus Mons. Then he told of how Kim and Ron had each excelled after leaving New Middleton, Kim as a Starfleet officer, Ron as a chef.

He then told the story of how Kim and Ron had been reunited, realized they were in love, and together saved Earth. Then he cleared his throat.

"There are some things that can't be undone. We have lost two heroes and we will miss them …"

A small, wry smile formed on Picard's face as he thought of how he would sit on the bridge of his ship, once again made whole, and look at the helmsman's seat. Though Kim had occupied it for only a few days, in his mind, and that of the crew, it was her station. That was why he had returned to the old practice of rotating young officers through the post, not feeling ready to let someone fill 'her' spot on the bridge.

Rufus, also present, nodded as he mused on how he often found himself in _Enterprise_'s galley late at night, looking at the customized equipment that Ron had ordered be fabricated. The naked mole rat missed his friend and would try to console himself by making the Tex-Mex he knew the goofy human enjoyed so much. But much to his sorrow, he found his heart was not in it; there had been a joy in their shared enthusiasm and that joy was now absent.

"… But there are injustices that can be undone, wrongs that can be righted," Barkin declared. "Kim Stoppable was reduced in rank because some sob-sister diplomats and unimaginative desk jockeys thought it was the right thing to do because they hoped to appease another government. That was wrong. Kim Stoppable gave her all for the Federation and the service. That's why I'm restoring her rank of lieutenant. Had she lived and had Starfleet not dropped the ball, she could have been one of the Service's greatest officers. I'm sure of that. She was spirited, bold, resourceful, and smart. It was those qualities that enabled her to save Earth. Therefore, in recognition of her bravery and sacrifice, I am posthumously awarding her the Federation Council Medal of Honor …"

James Timothy Possible wrapped his arm around his wife, who was desperately trying to hold back her tears. She knew if she began to cry, her husband would break down. They had both taken Kim's death hard, but James was the one who was most affected. He had always respected Kim's drive and achievements. Yet even after his daughter married, he had trouble thinking of her as anything but his Kimmie-cub. Now he struggled with the fact that his little girl would never be coming home.

"… Kim was a true hero. Those of us who knew here when she was a teen knew she was destined for great things. But many of us, and I include myself, often overlooked her greatest source of strength: Ron Stoppable.

"Ron, as many of you know, was her best friend, and recently became her husband. He was always by her side through school and at the Academy. Then he went onto make a name for himself as a chef. A few months ago, he went to visit Kim and in just a few days, something wonderful happened to those two: they finally recognized what many of us saw years ago …"

Knowing laughter rippled throughout the crowd.

"… And they finally tied the knot. But what should have been the beginning of their lives turned out to be their last days. And when the Federation was in mortal danger, Ron Stoppable, a civilian, was right by Kim's side. He sacrificed himself to help Kim save us. And so, today, I am also awarding the Medal of Honor to Ron …"

Barkin looked at Ron's parents; Mrs. Stoppable burst in to tears.

"… for he, too, was a hero. And though he never wore the uniform, he did Starfleet proud.

"There's not much else to say, people, other than that those of us on Earth and indeed throughout the Federation can best honor Kim and Ron by doing something useful with our lives and telling those we care about how we feel."

His remarks finished, Barkin gazed off at the statue, turned from the podium and quietly returned to his seat.

VII.

Jean-Luc Picard had heard much about New Middleton, now Possible-Stoppable, High School in recent days and so decided to explore the place that had played such a formative part in Kim's and Ron's lives.

He was walking down a hallway when he heard a voice.

"That was Kim's locker. Ron's was just a couple down from hers …"

Picard turned to see an attractive dark-skinned woman who appeared to be Kim's age.

"… I'm Monique," she said, extending her hand. "I was Kim's best girlfriend in high school."

"Jean-Luc Picard," he replied, taking her hand in his.

"Why?" Monique asked, the one word laced with much anger and sorrow.

Picard looked at Kim's old friend and sighed. "Someone once told me that the galaxy is filled with both wonders and dangers beyond imagination and he was right…"

Monique's expression made clear she wasn't interested in hearing platitudes. Indeed, Picard realized this woman held him responsible for what happened to her friends.

"… Monique, I grieve with you. Kim and Ron were two very special people. Most eulogies are filled with eloquent but vapid sentiments. That was not true of what the President said today. Kim and Ron did indeed save Earth and everyone on it. They also prevented an interstellar war. Literally hundreds of billions of people owe their lives to those two."

"You still haven't answered my question," she said.

"I know," he acknowledged. "The answer," he continued, "is that they were wise enough to see what needed to be done and brave enough to do what was right. They rose to the occasion when people with far more experience failed to do so."

Monique looked at Picard and saw the haunted look in his eyes. It was clear to her that he felt himself to be one of those who had failed. Yet she recalled Kim's communications; she had always spoken of this man with frank admiration.

"They really are heroes, aren't they?" she asked.

"Indeed, they are," Picard said softly. "They are probably two of the greatest people I will ever have the honor to know."

Monique looked at the captain and knew that he missed Kim and Ron a great deal, far more than he would if he thought of them as just members of his crew. Her anger subsided, to be replaced with sympathy.

"Did you know that Kim and Ron were on the cheer squad?" she asked.

"I believe I may heard something to that effect," Picard said.

"Kim was the captain and Ron was the mascot. They aced the Regionals every year Kim was captain. That girl had the moves!"

Picard smiled. "That does not surprise me."

"How'd you like to see some trophies and banners?" Monique asked.

"I'd like that very much," Picard said. "And perhaps you could show me the kitchen where Ron staged his culinary triumphs."

"You've had Ron's cooking?" Monique asked.

"More than once," Picard said.

"Boy, his cooking was TGFW!" she enthused.

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"Too good for words!" Monique explained with a chuckle. "You know while I'm showing you the hardware that Kim won and the kitchen that Ron tamed, I think I'd better tell you some stories that Barkin didn't get around to sharing during his speech."

"Oh?" Picard said as they began walking down the corridor of the empty high school.

"Oh yeah," Monique said, laughing. "You know, like the time that …"

VIII.

Picard had returned to _Enterprise_, which remained in Mars orbit. He was at his desk, reviewing his orders from Starfleet Command, when a brilliant light filled his ready room. He found himself sitting in his visitor's chair while Q was filling his usual seat.

"Q!" Picard exclaimed.

"You know, Jean-Luc, you are so predictable. Every time I show up, you greet me the same way."

Picard's jaw clenched. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asked.

"I'm feeling grumpy," Q groused.

"I am most sorry to hear that," Picard said with manifest insincerity. "But I am busy."

"Yes, yes, I know. You have to get this dreary little ship ready to fly off to its next adventure," Q said. "You know it won't be the same."

Picard looked at the omnipotent being, knowing what he meant. "No, it won't," he agreed.

"You know I asked her if she loved him," Q said.

Picard responded with uncharacteristically derisive laughter. "You are an omnipotent being and you had to ask? Could you not see?"

"Scoff all you want, Picard," Q said. "You think you know all about love yet here you sit on this bridge while your dear Beverly is down in Sickbay."

Picard's eyes flared. "What do you want, Q?"

"I guess some things won't change, will they, Jean-Luc?" Q replied with a roll of the eyes. "Too bad, really. You and the good doctor would actually make a most lovely couple." Looking disappointed, the omnipotent being offered a melodramatic sigh before he resumed his original train of thought. "I asked Kimberly if she'd give up her career, her freedom, even her life for Stoppable. She said she would. And she did. Did you know, Jean-Luc, that we offered her membership in the Continuum?"

"Which I'm sure she had the good sense to decline!" Picard snorted.

"Oh no. She joined …"

The captain didn't hide his surprise.

"… So she could save Ron."

"What?" Picard said, astonished. "Then where are they? Are they in the Continuum?"

"No," Q said sourly. "They're not. Just like your noble, redoubtable Commander Riker, Kim realized that she'd change. Though she figured that out much faster than Beard Boy did. And while Riker gave up his powers because he didn't want to change, Kim gave them up because she didn't want to change Ron or lose what she had with him. Can you believe it?" Q asked, his voice actually full of wonder. "She chose to die with Stoppable rather than live as one of us."

Though Picard wanted to say something sarcastic, he responded evenly. "I will assume you took that as an answer for your question then," he said.

"Yes," Q conceded. "Kim knew what true love was. I have to tell you, Jean-Luc, we don't see much of that in the Continuum."

"Nor in our universe," Picard said. "So, why are you here? I cannot believe you just stopped by to talk about love and the meaning of life with me."

"No, I didn't," Q said. "To be honest, I'm hungry. I was wondering if you could tell me where I could find a good lobster risotto. Nobody seems to make one quite like Rondo's."

Picard's eyes opened wide. "You cannot be serious!" he exploded. "Is that all that matters to you? Your appetite? Over the past weeks you came here time and again to proclaim your friendship for me and for Kim and for Ron and all you are concerned with are your desires! You disgust me!"

"Jean-Luc, your words sting," Q said, looking offended.

"Good!" Picard spat out. "Q, I am tired of you and your selfishness. Be gone. Now!"

Q sat quietly for a moment. "I don't know why I even care about your whiny little species."

"Nor do I," Picard replied.

"On second thought," Q mused, ignoring Picard, "Maybe I do. And perhaps it's because of what Kim and Ron did for each other. You humans may have promise yet. Maybe you are worth saving. Which means I have to do something about that annoying little Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer without mucking up your time stream too much …"

IX.

Kim felt as if a ripple ran through her body. Her head swam. Then she felt intense pain as Lore crushed her other foot.

X.

Ron was running as fast as he could down the corridor when he felt as if a ripple ran through his body. His head swam. Then he heard the footsteps of the pursuing synthodrones and pumped his legs even harder than before as he raced towards Kim.

XI.

Jean-Luc Picard, who was regaining consciousness on the bridge of _Enterprise_, felt as if a ripple ran through his body. His head swam. Then he looked up to see the familiar faces of Rufus and Grilka.

XII.

Kim was about to remove the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer when she heard the voice, though she couldn't say where it came from.

_Wait. Seven seconds._

She shook her head and began to pull.

_Kimberly Ann_, the voice said. _Be patient. Now it's only five and a half seconds._

Kim recognized the voice as Q's. She didn't know what he was up to, but she decided that if he was bothering to send her a message, she would listen.

Lore, having crushed her foot, moved up to her calves and began squeezing. Kim found the agony to be unbearable.

"This is just for starters, KP," the android sneered. "I'm going to crush every bone in your body. Then I'll drag you up to the bridge and let you watch me destroy Earth before I kill you."

"So. Not. Going. To. Happen," Kim gasped. She was drawing on every one of the breathing and pain management techniques she'd learned during her years of martial arts training.

She realized she had just a second or two to go. But the pain she experienced as Lore squeeze on her femurs was exquisite and she knew she was about to black out.

Then she felt his grip relax.

XIII.

Ron came up from behind and slashed downward with the Sword, cutting into Lore's legs.

The android, surprised, loosened his grip on Kim as he turned to look at his attacker. He was stunned to see a one-eyed human behind him.

"Dude, for someone who's supposed to be super-smart, you sure are dumb. You forgot that the beautiful hero always has a funny sidekick to provide a distraction," Ron said.

"What?" Lore said before he realized what had just happened. He'd been played. When he turned, he saw Kim had not only removed the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer, she was pointing a phaser at him.

"Consider yourself busted," Kim said with grim satisfaction as she discharged her weapon.

XIV.

"You will give me the sword!"

Montgomery Fiske had regained consciousness. And even though he was still a bit befogged, he knew where he was and what he needed to do. He stood before the ninja, ready to do battle.

"No," Yori said resolutely. She too was on her feet and had assumed a defensive stance, protecting the storage unit that she mistakenly believed contained the Sword of Kahless.

"How dare you refuse me!" he howled.

"I am under direct orders from the Captain," she said firmly. "Nobody is to have access to the bat'leth."

Yori was ready when Fiske pivoted and kicked out at her. Though she moved with anything but her usual gracefulness, she was able to grab his calf and body-slam the frenzied Englishman to the deck.

"You cannot do this," he raved. "You will pay for your treachery!"

Yori pinned the diplomat's arms with one hand and dug her knee into the small of his back. She then slapped her comm badge "Tanaka to Security. Please send a detail to the secure storage units."

As the young security officer waited for her colleagues to arrive, she looked down at Fiske, knowing he was right about one thing: she would pay for her treachery. Indeed, she already had, and with her honor.

XV.

Ron pulled the immobile form of Lore out of the way so he could reach Kim. When Ron reached her he was consumed by anger – and nearly retched. He could see the damage that Lore had done to her feet and legs, which now lay at odd angles to her body. And he could see her sweat-slicked face, which was now pale, almost as pale as Shego's. He reached for the Kimmunicator, which lay by Kim's unconscious body and pressed the button.

Wade's image appeared on screen. "Ron! What up? Are you guys okay?"

"KP's down," he said. "She needs help. Now."

"Okay, I'm on it," Wade said. "Uh, Ron, were you guys successful?"

Ron saw the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer and the Universal Adapter lying beside Kim.

"Yeah, we were," Ron said, his voice wooden. He and Kim may have just saved Earth but at the moment, his only concern was for her. "I guess you ought to put me through to Mr. B if you can."

XVI.

The Starfleet medics arrived and carefully moved Kim from the shaft. Once they had her on a portable biobed, one of the rescue personnel applied a hypospray to Kim's neck. Her eyes fluttered open. She saw Ron kneeling by her side and felt him holding her hand.

"Hey," she said, her voice a whisper.

"KP!" Ron exulted. "You're okay!"

"Yeah, I guess I am. Though I suspect it will be awhile before we can dance," she quipped as she looked down at her legs, remembering what Lore had done to her.

"Don't worry. I'll keep my card open for you," Ron said, his eyes tearing up. "You did it, Kim. You saved the world. I'm so proud –"

"No, Ron," she said, cutting him off. "We saved the world," she observed with a smile. "I couldn't do it without you."

Kim and Ron looked lovingly at one another as the medics activated the antigrav unit on her bed and began moving her.

"Ron?" she asked.

"Yeah KP?" he replied.

"Where's the PDVI?"

Ron tentatively hefted the phaser he'd seen by Kim when he found her in the shaft.

"You didn't …" she said.

"Hey," he said defensively, "That gizmo almost got us killed. I don't know why, but something told me the vortex thingie would never really be safe. I just had this image of us having to go after it again and again and again. I don't know about you KP, but I sure can think of better things to do with my time."

Kim glared at Ron for a moment before her expression softened. The ability to open a wormhole at anytime would have been exceedingly valuable. But Ron was right; a weapon like the PDVI would never be truly secure and was far too dangerous to be left intact. "You know what, Ron? You're right. Nice work," she said with a smile of approval that made her husband feel like a million bars of gold pressed latinum.

XVII.

Picard was reviewing reports from his department heads when the chime to his ready room door sounded. "Come," he said.

Alynna Nechayev strode in and Picard rose from his desk. "Admiral," he said.

"Sit down, Captain," she said as she took a seat before his desk. "Actually, might I trouble you for something to drink?"

"Of course," he said as he rose and went to the replicator. "What would you like?"

"Coffee, light cream, no sugar," she said.

Picard requested the hot beverage and after it materialized brought it to Nechayev. Then he sat in his chair.

"It would seem that Ms. Stoppable not only saved Earth but apprehended one of the criminals who stole the Pan-Dimensional Vortex Inducer."

"Indeed," Picard said, maintaining his poker face. "That is good news."

"Yes, it is. Lieutenant Worf delivered the prisoner to Starbase 112. She was arrested the moment she left the transport on which she was traveling."

"I see. And what of Lieutenant Worf?" Picard asked.

"I have received orders from Starfleet Command that in light of recent events, Mr. Worf, Mr. Rufus and Mr. O'Brien's involvement with the … unauthorized deployment … of _Calypso_ is to be … ignored."

"You seem conflicted, Admiral," Picard observed.

"Captain, I do not like the way you and your officers ignore, indeed spurn, the chain of command and regulations," she responded coolly. "However, in this instance I must concede that I am glad they did. Especially Ms. Stoppable. Have you heard from Starfleet Medical about her condition?"

"Yes," Picard said. "She will make a full recovery, though it will take time."

"That's good," she said. "I'm glad to hear it."

Picard watched as Nechayev turned and stared out the window at the streaking stars. "Is there anything else you wish to discuss, Admiral?"

"Yes. I will be returning to Earth with you," she said. "It seems that I am to appear at a board of inquiry regarding the Orionisi affair."

"I see," Picard said. Though he had no warm feelings for Nechayev, he felt sorry for her. Despite her faults, she was a talented flag officer. A hearing before a board, even if it cleared her of any negligence or inappropriate behavior, would doom any chance she would have for further promotion. She would never be offered the chance to serve on the General Staff in San Francisco and would definitely never be tapped to be Chief of Starfleet Operations. Her career had topped out. And while she could continue to serve, and Picard suspected she would, Alynna Nechayev would now be marked as yesterday's woman.

"Yes. The Federation Council was disturbed to learn of Admiral Fiske's deal with Rayna. It seems that Mr. Stoppable has a friend in the President. Mr. Barkin was not pleased when he learned what transpired."

"I take it this means Ambassador Fiske's career is in jeopardy?" Picard asked.

"Captain, Ambassador Fiske's career is the least of his worries," she said as she rose form her seat. "I suspect he's going to become very familiar with New Zealand."

XVIII.

Kim woke from her nap, looked to her side and saw Ron sitting in a chair, playing a pocket VR game. She smiled.

"How's the Klingon bashing going?" she asked in a still-sleepy voice.

Ron looked up and grinned. "Felix Renton remains the galactic champ. And it vexes me so!"

Kim chuckled.

Ron put down the game and took Kim's outstretched hand in his.

"So, how do you feel?" he asked.

"Better. Though I so wish I could just get up and go somewhere."

"Now, KP, you know what the doc said. A few more days of healing before you can stand again."

"I know," she sighed, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face. "I just want to get out of this bed."

"Hey," he said brightly, "what if I get in it with you?"

"You don't know how tempting that is," she said to her husband. "You know –"

Kim was cut off when the door to her room opened and a Starfleet officer wearing captain's pips walked in.

"Excuse me, Ms. Stoppable. President Barkin is here to see you."

Kim and Ron exchanged surprised looks.

"Mr. Barkin?" they said simultaneously.

"Jinx. You owe me a soda," Kim said triumphantly.

"Aw, man," Ron whined.

"Stop your whining and buck up, Stoppable!" a familiar voice commanded.

Without thinking, Ron jumped to his feet. "Sure thing, Mr. B," he said before noticing the disapproving glance of the Starfleet officer, "Uh, Mr. President."

Barkin grinned. "Mr. B will be fine, Ron," he said. "We are all Middletonians, after all."

"Hey," Ron said, more relaxed. "We're the President's peeps!"

"Don't push it, Stoppable," Barkin growled before turning to Kim. "Possible, uh, Stoppable," he said. "Good work."

"Thanks, sir," she said. "It's no big."

Barkin cocked an eyebrow, then shook his head. "I've been fully briefed on what happened on _Enterprise_. The Federation is in your debt. However, despite the fine work you two did, there's the matter of your theft of _Calypso_."

"Hey," Ron protested. "Kim saved the world. You can't bust her for a little thing like stealing a ship!"

"Last time I checked, Stoppable, she stole the ship to buy a slave, another violation of Federation law."

"Mr. Barkin," Kim interjected. "I wasn't buying a slave. I was rescuing Ron."

"The law is the law," Barkin said.

"Well, if you send KP to New Zealand, I'm going with her," Ron declared.

Barkin looked at his former students, then smiled.

"There might be a way around this," he said.

"Oh?" Kim asked.

"We need you in Starfleet, Kim," he replied. "I'd like you to retract your resignation. We could dismiss this as a covert operation."

Kim took a deep breath. "I can't do that, Sir."

"Because of the desk-flying knuckleheads or because of him?" Barkin said, hooking a thumb at Ron.

"Both," Kim answered. "Mr. Barkin, there are good officers in Starfleet. But the people running it –"

"That's changed," he said, cutting her off.

"Sir?" she asked.

"We have a new Chief of Starfleet Operations," he explained. "Captain, now Admiral, Saavik. She wasn't pleased when I promoted her; she would have preferred staying on _Galaxy_. But I told her we needed her and she agreed to serve. I didn't want to be a politician, Kim, but I was told I was needed, and so I'm serving. Now, you're needed."

"I'm sorry, Sir," she said, shaking her head, "but I won't be separated from Ron again."

"That won't be a problem. I've spoken with Gowron. He wants Ron to hang on to the Sword. I've signed a presidential directive recognizing that the Sword of Kahless is Ron's personal property …"

"You mean nobody can take it from me?" Ron asked.

"That's right," Barkin said. "You are officially recognized as both the keeper and owner of the Sword of Kahless. But don't let that go to your head."

"Uh, no, I won't," Ron said nervously.

"Good," Barkin said, smiling once again. "So, how about it … Lieutenant Commander?"

"Lieutenant … Commander?" Kim said in wonder.

"Darned straight. We don't have many officers like you," Barkin said. "If I can bump a captain up to fleet admiral, I can move an ensign to lieutenant commander. Besides, this should be a step up from lieutenant. You never should have been demoted."

"Booyah!" Ron exclaimed. "New jewelry for my KP!"

Barkin grinned. "That won't be the only jewelry," he said. "I'm awarding both of you the Federation Council Medal of Honor."

Kim lay in her bed stunned. A few days earlier, she thought her career was over. Now she was being offered the opportunity to be reinstated at a higher rank, making her, she was sure, the youngest lieutenant commander in the fleet as of that moment, if not its entire history. And, she had just been told that she was going to receive the Service's highest decoration. Her future success in Starfleet was all but guaranteed.

"What do you think, Ron?" she asked.

"Hey, I'm all about my bon-diggity wife getting a promotion," he said, wearing one of his goofy grins. "You know I'm with you KP, wherever you go. Besides, it's not like I have to worry about what to do; everybody wants a better meal," he said with a wink.

Kim grinned, then looked back to Barkin. "Okay, I'll do it. But I do have a question: where will we be serving?"

"Admiral Saavik needs an aide de camp. I told her what you had done and she said she'd be honored to work with you though she also told me it would be a crime to put an enterprising young officer like you behind a desk," the President said. "I have to admit, I agree with her, as do a lot of other people. In fact, there's somebody here who would like to talk to you about a deep space posting." Barkin turned to his aide. "Tell him she's reenlisted and send him in."

"Yes, sir," the officer said.

A few moments later, Barkin stood aside as Jean-Luc Picard entered Kim's room. The captain nodded at Barkin who looked at his aide indicating it was time to step out.

"Commander, Mr. Stoppable," Picard said formally.

"Sir," Kim replied, her emotions suddenly roiled. For the better part of a year, she had all but worshipped Jean-Luc Picard. Then he had let her down terribly, only to come through at the last minute. Part of her was angry, part of her was grateful, and part of her was confused. Adding to her feeling of being off-balance was being addressed as 'Commander.' Kim considered all of these things for a moment, looked to her husband and squeezed his hand. "Ron, do you think the captain and I could have a moment alone?"

Ron squeezed back and smiled. He suspected that Picard was about to meet the Wrath of Kim. "You got it, KP," he replied before rising and leaving. "You need me, I'll be hangin' with Mr. B."

Silence descended on the room as Ron closed the door behind him.

"Part of me wants to say 'thank you' for not stopping us when we left with _Calypso_," Kim finally said.

"And," Picard replied, "part of you wants to climb out of that biobed and introduce me to the joys of kung fu for putting you into that position in the first place, am I correct?"

Kim cocked an eyebrow and flashed Picard a knowing smile.

"Sometimes the platitudes people spout are meaningless," Picard continued. "Other times they have meaning. I recall being told many years ago by a very wise man that the one thing nobody could ever take from me was my good name; to lose that, I had to surrender it …"

Kim nodded as the captain gestured to the seat, indicating he hoped he might sit down.

"… Do you know what I have feared most during my years at the helm of the Federation flagship?"

Kim shook her head.

"Becoming a politician …"

Picard saw the look of surprise on Kim's face.

"… Do not misunderstand me. I enjoy the diplomacy, the politics very much. Being commander of a _Galaxy_-class starship is much like being an eighteenth century frigate captain. The vessel is my domain and, when we are in distant corners of the galaxy or initiating First Contact, I am the Federation. It is a very heady experience.

"But there is a difference between practicing politics and being a politician. These last few days, I moved from the former to the latter. I should have been more forceful in opposing Ambassador Fiske and finding ways to let you save Ron. I didn't and for that I am sorry.

"I do not know that I can regain your trust, or restore my good name in your eyes, Kim, but I would be grateful for the opportunity. Starfleet needs you. I need you. You remind me of when I was young and bold and filled with idealism. Officers like you are the future of the Service. I would be honored if you would agree to resume your post as _Enterprise_'s helmsman."

Kim looked away from Picard and out the window at San Francisco. She saw the glittering lights of the city stretched out before her, imagining herself living and working here, serving as the ADC to the head of Starfleet itself while Ron started a restaurant of his own. She envisioned them taking ferry rides on the Bay and climbing Telegraph Hill, enjoying day trips to the wineries of the Russian River Valley and riding the ancient trolleys.

But she also felt the tug of space, of the wonder of exploration. She recalled the thrill of piloting the mighty starship and of the spacewalks she had taken and away teams she had served on. "Out there" was why she had joined Starfleet in the first place. But she knew in her heart she could never be without Ron; he was too much a part of her. A long-distance relationship was not an option for her, or, she assumed, for her husband.

"What about Ron?" Kim asked.

"What about him?"

"Does he get his old job back?" she asked.

Picard smiled. "I can only hope that he would want it. It is one thing to command _Enterprise_; she is rare, but she is not the only _Galaxy_-class starship. It is a wholly different thing to have the best chef in Starfleet; that, Kim, is something to treasure."

Kim grinned. "You know, Sir, you really are an accomplished diplomat."

"Thank you," he said, smiling. "So, may I take that as a 'Yes'?"

"Yes, you can," Kim answered. "Assuming Ron agrees. Let me discuss it with him."

"Fair enough," Picard said as he rose to his feet and straightened his tunic.

XIX.

The turbolift doors opened and Kim, with Ron in tow, strode out onto the bridge of _Enterprise-D_. She walked down the familiar ramp and presented herself to the captain.

"Lieutenant Commander Kim Stoppable and Mr. Ron Stoppable reporting, Sir," she said as she handed Picard a padd.

He made a show of reviewing the padd before he handed it to Will Riker. "All appears in order, Number One. Will you make sure that the Stoppables are assigned suitable quarters?"

Riker grinned. "My pleasure, Sir."

Picard then surprised Kim by rising and gesturing for her to stand aside. "Now, if you will excuse me, Commander."

"Yes, sir," she said, wondering what was happening. She was at a loss when Picard sat down in the recently vacated helmsman's chair.

The captain turned to the occupant of the Ops Station. "These seats are quite comfortable, Mr. Data."

"They were designed with the knowledge that occupants might be seated for an entire watch of eight hours, Captain. Members of many species have commented on the lumbar support they provide."

"Yes, indeed," Picard said as he looked at the helm. Then he looked over his shoulder at Riker. "Wouldn't you agree, Number One, that there are few things more satisfying than piloting a starship?"

Riker, still grinning, replied, "Can't argue with you there, Sir. The sense of control, the power, the speed: it's exhilarating."

"You know," Picard said, "it's been a while since I've felt exhilarated. I think I'd like to pilot the ship today." The captain then turned to Kim. "Well, Commander, don't just stand there," he said in his most authoritative voice. "I expect all of my officers to be usefully occupied when they are on the bridge. Find an open station and assume it."

Kim looked around and realized the only available station was the captain's chair.

"Sir?" she said looking at Riker, assuming he would take it.

The first officer smiled and shook his head. "Not today, Kim."

She looked back at Picard who was now smiling broadly. "You showed on _Calypso_ that you've earned the right to sit there, Commander," he said. "Would you do us the honor?"

Kim then shifted her gaze from the captain to Ron, who was beaming with pride – and a bit of amusement; it was clear he was in on what was happening. She returned his admiring gaze and made a face that told him he was both loved and busted.

"Ron, why don't you join me," Deanna said, gesturing to the bench seat by her side.

"Don't mind if I do," he said with a grin.

Kim looked at the expectant faces, then at the captain's chair. With assurance and a sense of command, she sat down.

Kim Stoppable allowed herself to enjoy the view from this unaccustomed vantage.

"Not bad, huh?" Riker asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Actually," Kim said, "It's spankin'!"

"Everything you need is accessible via the panel on the left armrest," Riker offered. "Even the codes to the Captain's John."

"Hey, I heard that!" Ron said in mock protest, earning stifled giggles from the bridge crew.

"Thanks," Kim said with a grin. "I'll have to remember that." She looked at the data screen built into the armrest of Picard's chair and scrolled down through the menu. She checked the status of the ship's systems and saw that all were on-line; then she scanned Picard's orders, so she would know where they were to go once they left the Sol system. Having done that, she took a deep breath.

"Mr. Data," Kim said, "Inform Spacedock we are ready to depart."

"I am informing Spacedock that we are ready to depart," Data replied as his fingers danced over his console. A moment later he announced, "I have received acknowledgement from Spacedock. We are cleared for departure."

"Mr. Picard, set a course for Rigel X," Kim ordered.

"Course set for Rigel X," the captain replied.

"After we clear Spacedock, take us out at one quarter impulse."

"Yes, Sir," Picard said with a smile.

_Enterprise_ slipped free of the immense structure orbiting Mars and headed to the edge of the solar system. Picard, who Data could see was enjoying himself immensely, piloted the ship so the crew could enjoy the view of Jupiter and a close-up fly-by of Saturn's majestic rings.

Kim, like her crewmates, enjoyed the spectacle and smiled; seated in the captain's chair, she was both comfortable and excited.

"We have cleared the Kuiper Belt. Would you like me to go to warp … Captain?" Picard said.

"Please and thank you," Kim said as she crossed her legs and settled in for the voyage to _Enterprise_'s next destination.

XX.

_Fourteen years later …_

"She's a fine ship, Number One," Jean-Luc Picard said, "I know she'll take good care of you."

"I know she will, Sir. There's no better ship in the Fleet," his Executive Officer said.

"Who just happens to be getting the best captain in the Fleet," the XO's spouse offered.

"I would expect you to be partial to _Enterprise-E_'s new commander," Picard said with a warm smile, "though I must say, I agree." He then turned to the ship's new commander.

"The pips suit you," Picard said.

"Thanks," Kim said as she grinned at Picard, then at Ron, who was still grinning like he'd won a lifetime's supply of nachos; he'd been wearing the same happy expression from the moment he pinned the fourth gold pip onto his wife's collar.

"Well, it would seem it's about time for the handover ceremony," Picard said.

"Sir –" Kim said.

"Jean-Luc," Picard said, correcting her. "We are now both captains. And I hope we have long been friends."

Kim found herself growing misty-eyed. She – and Ron – had forgiven Picard for his part in the incidents of a decade and half earlier the day he asked them to return to the old _Enterprise_. When Commander Riker's successor as First Officer was promoted after only a short stint on board, Picard asked Kim if she'd be willing to give up command of the _Defiant_-class ship _Punisher_ to become his new XO – and next-in-line to command _Enterprise_. Kim was leery of giving up her command, but she and Ron agreed that the chance to serve aboard and ultimately command the Federation flagship was too good an opportunity to pass up. That Picard wanted her, given all of the other officers available, had meant the world to her. The posting also offered them the opportunity to finally start a family, something she could not do on a warship. And so, she readily accepted Picard's offer to be his first officer. Now, presented with this affirmation of friendship, she responded the only way she could at that moment: by embracing Picard.

Kim was not alone in feeling her eyes welling up. Ron, too, felt tears forming. His father had died a number of years earlier and Picard had essentially adopted Ron as the son he never had. Kim was both amused and deeply touched by the bond the two men had formed. Ron had taken to calling Picard 'Captain P,' something Jean-Luc Picard would abide from no one else but treasured from Ron. Ron quickly found himself joining in the hug.

The three stood there for a few moments, then broke the embrace, checked their clothes and headed out of Picard's, soon to be Kim's, ready room onto the bridge and to the waiting turbolift.

XXI.

Everyone aboard _Enterprise-E_ knew history was going to be made as their popular, talented First Officer took command from their revered, legendary Captain. Not surprisingly, everyone wanted to see the ceremony. The cavernous hangar bay was filled to overflowing, with every spot on the flight deck filled. There were people perched atop shuttles and fighters and crowded onto gangways and into observation booths. Those who could not find a spot were able to watch from holomonitors around the ship.

Standing in the center of the crowded deck was the ramrod straight figure of Jean-Luc Picard, fit, bald, and aristocratic, wearing the uniform and insignia of a Starfleet captain. Facing him was Kim Stoppable, trim, pretty with sparkling emerald eyes, a mane of auburn hair, and a slight scar on her cheek; she, too, wore a captain's uniform. By her side was her husband Ron, standing at ease, tow-headed, with one eye and an eye patch, vivid scars on his face, a bat'leth slung across his back. Just behind him was Rufus, who held the Stoppables' two freckled toddlers, a girl with blond hair and green eyes, and a boy with red hair and brown eyes.

The assembly watched with anticipation as Picard, smiling, handed Kim a padd.

She returned the smile, looked to Ron, who grinned, took her hand and gently squeezed, then let go, before she began to read her commission: "By order of Starfleet Command, I, Captain Kimberly Ann Stoppable, am requested and required to hereby take charge as master and commander of the United Federation of Planets Starship _Enterprise_ …"

_The End_


	28. Bonus: Naco On The Edge of Forever 1

If you saw it on KP, it belongs to Disney; on _TNG_, it belongs to Paramount.

* * *

Stardate 550401

I.

"I'll be in my ready room, Tuvok," Kim said rising from her seat.

"Aye, Captain," the Vulcan XO replied to his commanding officer.

Captain Kim Stoppable entered her private sanctum just off the bridge of the _Enterprise-E_. She'd never imagined how important this space would become to her when she assumed command of the Federation flagship some six months earlier. She also never imagined how much paperwork she'd have to do as the ship's commanding officer.

She sat behind her desk and began to sort through a pile of data padds. Contemplating the stack, she shook her head, set them aside, and hit her comm badge.

"Stoppable to Stoppable," she said.

"Stoppable here. Can I help you, Captain?" Ron asked professionally.

"Yes. Be my husband, not my chef, for a moment," she said.

"Can do, Kimila," a now-jaunty voice replied, bringing a smile to her face. "So –"

Kim's conversation with Ron was interrupted when the ready room was filled with a flash of blinding light.

"Q!" Kim hissed.

"Captain Kimmie!" the omnipotent alien said as he flung his arms wide. "So good to see you."

"What do you want?" she asked, unable to conceal her exasperation. "I'm busy."

"Trading sweet nothings with Rondo, I'm sure," he said as he approached her desk. "Does Starfleet Command know about this?"

"I so don't have time for you," Kim growled.

"I know," Q said sympathetically. "You have an appointment to keep!"

II.

Kim looked around the unfamiliar deck, then down at her uniform in shock. She was wearing a red miniskirt and black boots. The braid on her sleeve, if she recalled her Starfleet history correctly, indicated she was a junior officer. An ensign or …

"Lieutenant," a commanding voice said.

Kim looked up – and tried not to stare – she was being addressed by none other than the legendary James T. Kirk! She realized she'd have to play along until she figured out how to extricate herself from this Q-created temporal sitch.

"Sir," she responded.

"Are you new here?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, I am," Kim replied. "The names Stoppable, Kim Stoppable."

"What department are you assigned to, Lieutenant?"

Kim's awe over talking with one of the greatest captains in Starfleet's long and storied history was rapidly being eclipsed by annoyance; she did not like the way he was looking at her. Kirk was rapidly confirming all the stories Kim had heard about him being a galactic class womanizer. "I'm in security, sir," she answered before adding, "I actually know sixteen kinds of kung fu."

"Sixteen. That's very impressive," he said.

"It's no big, sir," Kim observed. "I've been studying martial arts since I was five."

"Excellent," Captain Kirk said as he appreciated his new crew member's figure. "Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, Mr. Sulu and I are beaming down to the planet's surface. We need a security officer to join us."

III.

The creature was at least ten feet tall, covered with shaggy hair, sported razor-sharp tusks, and possessed of a furious and aggressive temperament. Kim had been cut off from the others; the landing party members were unable to help her. She assumed a defensive stance as the beast roared and raised its clawed paws.

"So, how's it going?" asked Q, whose head appeared out of nowhere.

"Spankin'," Kim groused as she dodged the creature's first attack. "Our phasers and communicators are inoperative due to an ion storm and on the lighter side I think Captain Kirk is going to make a pass at me."

"It's tough being a modern woman," Q said sympathetically. "You do realize you have nothing to worry about from Jimmy boy?"

"Why? Is he going to start hitting on someone else?" Kim asked as she dropped to the ground and rolled.

"Of course not," Q said. "You're going to die …"

"What?" Kim exclaimed.

"… Well, wearing the red shirt is so the drama after all."

Kim once again looked at her uniform, then at the creature, which lunged at her. She was in a defile and knew she was trapped with no possibility of escape. Kim scanned the area and spotted a crevice, hoping she might be able to hidden within it. Unfortunately, the beast, which was surprisingly fast, was able to grab her wrist before she was able to wriggle into her refuge. The thing violently yanked Kim's arm, and slammed her against a rocky wall, sending pain throughout her back. The force of the impact sent her staggering. She was trying to gain her footing when the animal grabbed her now-injured arm, causing her to scream, and threw her to the ground. The beast reared and as it roared, Kim sensed that this time her luck had finally run out.

IV.

McCoy shook his head. "She's dead, Jim."

"Sometimes I hate this business," Kirk said as he looked at Kim's fallen and battered form.

"It is not your fault the ion storm rendered our equipment useless," Spock observed.

"A lot of good that does her," Kirk said, barely able to keep the bile out of his throat. He hated losing a member of his crew, whether it was an old friend like Gary Mitchell or somebody he'd just met like Kim Stoppable.

Frowning, Kirk pulled out his communicator and flipped open the top. "Scotty, this is the captain," he said. "Beam us up."

_To be continued …_


	29. Bonus: Naco On The Edge of Forever 2

Thanks to Atomic Fire, Zaratan, JPMod, Ultimate Naco Topping, cpneb, calamite, Amarin Rose, conan98002, spectre666, Meca Vegeta, daywalkr82, The Halfa Wannabe, Josh84, Comet Moon, TexasDad, Chris Redfield-General Chao, Daeron Blackoak, FAH3, TAZER ZERO, Quathis, Whisper from the Shadows, Yuri Sisteble, whitem, Uru Baen, smlunatick, Yankee Bard, Molloy, US.Steele, campy, Joe Stoppinghem, surforst, and kim's 1 fan for reviewing and to everyone for reading.

Thanks, as always, to campy for proofreading.

Leave a review and a reply will be beamed to your email box!

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; _TNG_, its Paramount's.

* * *

I.

"Kim? KP?" a befuddled Ron said as he tapped his comm badge to no avail. The one-eyed chef and captain's husband and sidekick in saving the universe had a really bad feeling.

He tapped his badge again. "Stoppable to Tanaka."

"Tanaka here."

"Yori, we've got a problem," Ron said. "Kim's missing."

"What do you mean?" _Enterprise_'s security chief said. "I just saw the captain go into her ready room."

"Well, I was talking to her," Ron said, his unease growing, "and she just cut out."

"Stoppable-san, perhaps her badge failed," Yori observed.

"Yeah, maybe," Ron said dubiously before adding, "Hey, would you mind checking, you know, just to be sure?"

"Not at all," Yori said. "I will contact you in a moment."

Yori ended the communication, then turned and approached the door to Kim's ready room. She pressed the chime, once, twice, three times. When she still received no response, she opened the door and entered the captain's sanctuary.

The security officer walked in and found nothing save some scattered padds on the desk. Before she could press her comm badge to contact Ron or raise an alert, she found herself standing in the galley, facing an agitated Ron, who was dressed in his chef's gear.

"Oh man, not Q again …" the tow-headed chef complained.

A moment after Yori's arrival, a bright flash filled the galley. Q, as was his wont, was wearing a captain's uniform.

"You know," said the omnipotent being, "maybe Rondo here should be in charge of security and Yori should be the cook. He knew something was off right from the get-go."

"Okay, dude, what did you do with Kim?" Ron demanded.

"Why are you accusing little old _moi_ of doing anything?" Q said with a pout. "There are all sorts of nasty aliens who would like to get their hands on your precious KP."

Ron grabbed Q by the front of his duty jacket. "First, don't you ever call her that again, got it?" Ron growled.

"Let me go," Q whined. "I just had this pressed."

Ron responded by slamming Q into a refrigeration unit.

"Second, bring her back," he growled. "Now."

"Or what?" Q said. "You won't make me any more lobster risotto?"

"You don't want to know, dude," Ron said coldly.

Q chuckled. "A mortal. Threatening me. How pathetic. You know—oww!"

Ron, who'd just slammed Q into the refrigerator a second time, was breathing heavily.

"Bully me all you want Stoppable. It won't make a difference," Q said. "Besides, you should be happy: she's in a far better place."

"What do you mean?" a thoroughly confused Ron asked.

"You humans really are slow, aren't you?" Q asked. "You don't have to answer that, Stoppable; it was a rhetorical question." The omnipotent being paused, then said, "She's dead."

"What!" Ron exclaimed.

"You know, gone to her Maker, crossed over, passed away."

"I know what dead means!" an enraged Ron bellowed. He let go of Q and stumbled backwards, trying to assimilate what he'd just been told. Kim. Dead?

"Why?" he finally managed to croak.

"Well, it was April Fool's Day and things had been getting dull in the Continuum, so I thought a little prank was in order. 'What's a little joke between friends?' I asked myself. The punch-line, which involved Kimberly, was really quite amusing," Q said with a smile before he frowned. "You should have seen the expression on her face when I told her what was going to happen …"

Ron stared at Q in slack-jawed disbelief.

"… Okay, I'll admit, I really didn't give much thought to what was going to happen next."

"You didn't give much thought?" an incredulous Ron stammered before he jumped Q. "I'm going to kill you, you—"

Yori, seeing that Ron was indeed ready to do what he'd just threatened, grabbed onto Ron and pulled him off Q.

"Stoppable-san, calm down," the security chief said as she restrained his arms.

"Calm down?" he yelled. "This all-powerful freak killed my wife and you want me to calm down? Are you nuts?"

"Stoppable-san," she said reasonably, "it will not help the situation if Q does to you what he has done to Kim-sama."

"She's right, Ronnie," Q said as he adjusted his uniform. "You really don't want to go down that road …"

"Why not?" Ron said lifelessly as his shoulders sagged. "Kim's … dead."

"Stoppable-san, do not speak that way," Yori chided. "What of the twins?"

"Oh man. This is so not fair," Ron moaned as he contemplated the two toddlers growing up without their mother.

"Now here's how I see things – how would you put it? – going down," Q said. "My first option is to do nothing and leave Kimbo in Valhalla. You could do a lot worse than Yori here, Rondo" Q observed as he cast an approving glance her way. "My second option: I could just bring Captain Kimmie back, but that really wouldn't be any fun." Q scratched his chin, then brightened. "Of course, there's a third option …"

The omnipotent being's eyes twinkled and a mischievous grin spread across his face.

"… Oh, this is going to be good!" the omnipotent being said as he snapped his fingers, causing Ron to disappear in a flash.

"What have you done?" Yori demanded.

"Sent them on the ride of their lives," Q said with an impish smile. "Ta ta, _ma chère_," the omnipotent being added before he, too, vanished in a burst of light, leaving Yori alone in the galley.

_To Be Continued_

in

**The Naco On The Edge of Forever**

Coming Soon!


	30. Bonus: Naco On The Edge of Forever 3

**A/N: This chapter previously appeared as **_**The Naco On The Edge of Forever**_**. It has been modified to fit on your screen and has been incorporated into this story which concludes in an all-new Chapter 31.**

* * *

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; on _Star Trek_, it's Paramount's. 

Thanks to campy for beta and proof-reading.

Leave a review, get a response beamed directly to your email box!

* * *

I. 

Christine Chapel looked at the draped body stretched out on the biobed. Gently, she pulled back the sheet covering Lieutenant Stoppable. Even though the dead woman was battered and bruised, it was clear she had been attractive. It occurred to the _Enterprise_'s head nurse that she had never actually met the fallen officer; she assumed she must have transferred aboard just before the fateful mission.

Chapel wondered about the lieutenant – what she was like, what she did for fun, who she loved. She sighed as she glanced at the wedding band on the woman's ring finger, then set aside her ruminations. She knew she needed to make preparations for the autopsy. She was about to remove the deceased's tattered uniform when she heard a heartbeat-like beep. Startled, she looked up at the biobed monitor.

"Doctor McCoy, come here," she called out, urgency filling her voice.

The _Enterprise_'s chief medical officer hurried into the ward from his office. He looked at Chapel, then the monitor. He watched in amazement as the diagnostic arrows, all of which had been at rest on the bottom of the screen, began rising upwards.

"That's not possible," he muttered before he took hold of Kim's wrist and checked her pulse. "I'll be darned," he said in wonder as he scanned her with his medical tricorder.

"Where am I?" Kim groaned as her eyes fluttered open. She immediately grimaced as a wave of pain coursed through her body.

"Ten cc's of hadrozine now, and get the clamshell!" McCoy demanded. Chapel retrieved the sedative-filled hypospray and handed it to the doctor, who pressed it against the young officer's neck; she rolled the large piece of medical equipment into place, covering Kim from the collarbone down.

Kim's agony-wracked features immediately relaxed as the drug took effect.

"That should ease the pain, Lieutenant. As to your question, you're in Sickbay," the ship's surgeon explained as he activated the stasis field, which immobilized Kim from the neck down.

"Doctor … McCoy?" she asked as she tried to focus on the middle-aged man before her.

"At your service," he said in his courtly manner. The doctor allowed himself the pleasure of seeing the young woman, whom he'd declared dead only a short while earlier, living and breathing. Though still dumbfounded that he was even having this conversation, he'd worry about the inexplicable resurrection later and focus on healing his patient for now.

"So what's the sitch?" Kim asked.

"Sitch?" the doctor asked.

"Sorry," Kim said. "Situation."

"Well," McCoy answered. "Your right ulna and radius were broken, as were your right femur and tibia. So was your clavicle. Your left arm was dislocated. I've put you on a sedative to reduce the pain and immobilized your body until I can begin your treatment …"

Kim couldn't help but look stunned as she considered the catalog of injuries McCoy had just recited. Even assuming 23rd century medical technology was similar to that of her own day, and she had her doubts given the size of the device that had been rolled into place to generate the stasis field, she could be laid up for days.

"Don't worry," he said reassuringly, sensing her concern. "We'll have you back on your feet and like new, Lieutenant."

_Lieutenant._ Memories flooded back. Kim recalled being taken from _Enterprise_ – her _Enterprise_ – by Q and being dropped onto the _Enterprise_ of more than a century earlier. Almost immediately after, Captain Kirk took her on an away mission that had quickly gone terribly wrong. She thought of the ion storm, the failure of their equipment, Q's taunts, the way she was cut off by the fierce creature that appeared silently and swiftly. Then she remembered the attack. She was sure she was going to die. "Okay, Doctor, spill."

"Spill?" he asked.

"Tell me what's going on. Now," she demanded. "I'm sure you're an amazing doctor, but I know what was going on down there. I should be … dead."

McCoy shook his head. His patient definitely had an air of command and was clearly perceptive.

"The truth, Lieutenant, is that you were dead. In fact, you should still be dead."

"Q," Kim muttered.

"Excuse me?" McCoy asked.

"I said, 'phew'," Kim dissembled.

McCoy looked at Kim skeptically for a moment, then said, "I'm going to need to run some tests on you before I begin your treatment."

"All right," Kim said, before she gritted her teeth as she was overcome by an unexpected wave of pain.

McCoy frowned. "Lieutenant, I'm going to need to increase the dosage on the hadrozine; you'll be unconscious for a while."

"No big, Doctor," she rasped. "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

McCoy smiled at his patient, then pressed the hypospray against her neck. The drugs immediately took effect, sending Kim into a deep slumber.

II.

"You wanted to see me, Bones?"

"Close the door, Jim."

Kirk did as requested.

"What can you tell me about Lieutenant Stoppable?" McCoy asked as he leaned back in his chair.

"Not much," the captain admitted as he perched on the edge of his friend's desk. "I only met her just before we went down to the planet. I brought her along since I thought it would be a good opportunity to get to know a new crewmember." Kirk's curiosity was piqued by the look on his friend's expressive faced. "What is it, Bones?"

"Jim, I've seen a lot of strange things over the years. I've even seen people come back from the dead. Heck, I've come back from the dead," McCoy said, recalling the incident on the amusement park planet in the Omicron Delta sector. "However, all that said, Ms. Stoppable's recovery was nothing short of miraculous."

"Go on, Bones," Kirk encouraged, knowing his ship's surgeon had something important to share with him.

"In addition to a number of contusions, lacerations, and a very large number of broken bones, Lieutenant Stoppable suffered severe trauma to the head, extensive damage to a number of major internal organs and spinal cord. There is now no evidence of those injuries …"

McCoy could see that he had Kirk's full attention.

"Given this unusual state of affairs, I thought I should run a full diagnostic on her before proceeding with any course of treatment," McCoy said. "To do that, I needed a base-line. So, I called up her medical records."

"And?" Kirk asked.

"She doesn't have any," McCoy said flatly.

"Are you sure?" Kirk asked.

"Positive," McCoy replied. "She not only has no medical records; there's no service record. In fact, there is no record of her in the ship's computer. I thought it might be a paperwork error; things like that have been known to happen with new transfers. But Starfleet Medical doesn't have anything on her, either. Neither does Starfleet Command."

Kirk turned and looked through the clear plexisteel divider at Kim, who was now sleeping, thanks to a sedative McCoy had administered.

"If she's not a Starfleet officer, who is she?" Kirk asked.

"I don't know, Jim," McCoy answered. "But I can tell you she's human."

"Are you sure? Is it possible she's an alien masquerading as a human?"

"I don't think so. I did have a chance to check her DNA; it's as human as yours or mine," McCoy said. "That said, I still can't tell you why the injuries she sustained that healed were those for which treatment is beyond our technology, where she's from or why she's here, though, based on what she did down on the planet, I don't think she means us any harm."

Kirk nodded his agreement. The young woman was in Sickbay because she'd tried to protect the rest of the landing party when the alien creature first appeared. Still, despite his admiration of her courage, the captain knew he needed to be on his guard. The ship's safety was his primary responsibility after all, and acts of mercy, while warranted, could have dire consequences if he wasn't careful. He was still haunted by his experience with Khan, whom he'd rescued from the depths of space only to be betrayed and almost killed.

"Anything else I should know?"

"Yes," McCoy answered. "The bones in her feet and ankles appear to have suffered major trauma in the past."

"And?"

"Whoever repaired them used materials neither I nor the computer recognize."

"Keep an eye on her, Bones," the captain said as he returned his gaze to the mysterious auburn-haired woman. "And let me know when she wakes up. I want to get to the bottom of this."

III.

The moment Ron appeared in the unfamiliar corridor his trousers fell down.

"Aw, man!" he whined before he realized there were people in odd uniforms gawking at him. He quickly pulled up his pants and grinned sheepishly at the stunned crewmen. "Uh, hey, guys!"

One of the men withdrew what looked like an old-time phaser from a holster and pointed it at Ron. "Hands up!" the burly man, who was named Rodriguez, barked.

Ron looked at the weapon-wielding man in the red shirt, then at the others, some of whom were wearing blue, others gold. Slowly he began to raise his hands. As he did so, he said, "Hey, is that coolant leaking from that pipe up there?"

"Nice try. Now, hands up," Rodriguez said.

"Peace out, dude," Ron said as he began to comply with the order. "And stop waving that thing in my face."

Much to Rodriguez's surprise, Ron crooked his arms when they were parallel with his shoulders and began making extremely odd noises. Then Ron lifted a leg, pivoted, and kicked the phaser from his hand.

The unanticipated move gave Ron just enough time to turn and run. And while many years had passed, he was still grateful he'd tried out for the football team his senior year of high school – all those drills he had to do once he'd been made running back were now paying off as he made his escape.

The security officer, both outraged and embarrassed that the intruder had evaded detention, swore as he took off after his quarry.

IV.

"Security to bridge."

"Kirk here."

"Sir, we have an intruder on board."

"Where?" Kirk asked, alert to the potential danger to his ship and crew.

"He was last seen on Deck Seven."

"I'm on my way," the captain said. "Mr. Spock, you're with me. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."

V.

Kim slowly awoke from her drug-induced slumber. She still felt groggy but was relieved the pain seemed to be gone or at least under control. She looked around the ward and for the first time in many, many years felt terribly alone. Just about everyone she loved or served with didn't exist; with the exceptions of her Nana and Tuvok, none of them had even been born yet. She found the idea of a universe without Ron or their twins heartbreakingly bleak.

"Okay, enough self-pity, Stoppable," she said to herself. "You're a Starfleet captain. Check your motto: You can do anything. And that includes finding a way back home."

She knew she could do that. But before she could find her way back to Ron, the twins, and the _Enterprise-E_, she had to figure out how to handle her current sitch. Unless Q had provided her with a 23rd century identity, she was sure it would be only a matter of time before someone inquired into her records and found nothing. Kim knew that it wouldn't be long before Kirk started asking questions.

Kim pursed her lips, as she considered what answers she would offer. As she pondered that matter, she realized that she was going to need to enlist the Starfleet legend's assistance. Suspecting Q was not going to offer her any assistance, returning to her own time would require a Starship for a slingshot or passage to a Guardian. The boys in the Department of Temporal Investigations would be tweaked, but Kim knew she'd have to tell Kirk who she really was; it was her only hope of getting home.

VI.

Tuvok took Kim's customary seat in the Observation Lounge. Arrayed around the conference table to either side of the Vulcan were _Enterprise-E_'s senior officers: Yori Tanaka, the head of security, Miles O'Brien, the chief engineer, Nog, the helmsman, Beverly Picard, the chief medical officer, and Rufus, go-to naked mole rat and de facto guardian of the Stoppables' two children.

"Commander Tanaka, would you please give us your report?" the XO requested.

"It would be my honor," she said with a slight dip of the head. "At 1305 hours, Captain Stoppable left the bridge and went to her ready room. At 1311 she initiated contact with Mr. Stoppable. At approximately 1312, based on Mr. Stoppable's reports of their conversation, the Captain disappeared. In light of subsequent developments, we believe this to be the result of actions taken by Q, who appeared on board _Enterprise_ at approximately 1314. At 1321, he caused Mr. Stoppable to disappear before he himself departed.

"As of this time, I cannot ascribe a motive to Q beyond his self-professed desire to have alleviate his boredom."

Yori's tone and expression were ones of unmitigated contempt, though they soon were replaced by ones of concern.

"We do not know where Kim-sama or Stoppable-san are; Q claimed that the captain was dead, but based on what he said and did, I believe that is no longer the case."

"Thank you, Commander," the Vulcan said.

"Tuvok?" Beverly said.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Jean-Luc observed that in our dealings with Q, there was usually a method to his madness. While he could be malicious –"

The conference room filled with a white light. Tuvok found himself displaced from the chair at the head of the table, which was now occupied by Q, who was wearing his captain's uniform.

"You really shouldn't refer to your husband as malicious, Doctor," Q said impishly.

"Speak of the devil," she replied with arched eyebrow.

"Malicious. Devil. The hostility today is palpable," he said snidely. "I'd have thought that since you and Picard finally hooked up you'd be a bit less uptight."

"Q, what is the purpose of your visit?" Tuvok asked.

"I thought I'd ask Yori out to dinner, if you must know. She has the most lovely eyes."

The security chief pulled a face.

"Oh, come now," Q said to Yori. "An evening with me would be unlike anything you have ever experienced."

"It would be my honor to not have that experience," she said coldly.

"Spoil sport," Q groused.

"You remain highly annoying," Rufus observed.

"And you remain highly bald," Q shot back. "Now that we've dispensed with the sparkling repartee, shall we return to the reason we're all here? I believe the dancing doctor was on to something," the omnipotent being said before he rested his chin on his clasped hands. "Go on, Beverly. I'm all ears!"

The doctor replied, all the while glaring at the omnipotent visitor. "As I was saying, Q can be malicious. Destructive. Cruel, even …"

Q did his best to look hurt.

"… But whenever he's intruded into our affairs, he's had another motive in addition to his own amusement, one that, as hard as it can be to believe, often involved helping humanity …"

"Bravo, Beverly!" Q said as he clapped. "A brilliant, if overly simplistic, analysis!"

"… Though sometimes that assistance seemed like an afterthought."

"It was never an afterthought," Q said huffily. "I'll have you know that I take very good care of my pets."

"Is that what we are to you, Q?" a disgusted O'Brien asked. "Pets?"

"Well, no, not really," Q said. "More like younger siblings who are extraordinarily dull, unbelievably dim-witted, incredibly slow, unspeakably feeble-minded and yet inexplicably loveable."

"Gee, thanks," O'Brien said acidly.

"You're welcome," he replied. "Well, this has been a blast, but I really should be going." With a flash, Q disappeared.

A moment later, his image appeared on the conference room monitor. "You know, I'm feeling magnanimous today, so here's a clue: if you want to find Kimmie and Rondo, look everywhere. Oh, and O'Brien, if you don't want this tub to explode like a supernova, you'll check the sixth secondary plasma converter in the port nacelle. Ta ta!"

VII.

Ron hurriedly clambered up into the Jefferies tube, opened a hatch, and hoisted himself into the shaft. The partition secured behind him, he began crawling. He didn't know where he was, where he was going, or what he was going to do. He knew he needed time to think. But he also knew he had to keep moving. He suspected the phaser-toting guy he'd seen in the corridor had called in his peeps and that they were now looking for him. Ron felt like he was a high school freshman again, desperately avoiding the abusive bullies of D Hall.

Feeling he'd put some distance between himself and his pursuers, Ron stopped to catch his breath. As he rested, he recalled what had gone down with Q in the galley.

'She's dead,' Q had said.

Ron still couldn't believe that Kim was actually dead. Q was whacked but he'd never killed anyone, at least that Ron knew of.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

Desperately clinging to that lifeline, he hoped that whatever Q was up to involved his bringing Kim back to the world of the living. Ron just didn't want to contemplate the alternative.

VIII.

"Attention all decks, this is the captain speaking," the _Enterprise_'s CO announced. "There is an intruder at large on the ship. He appears to be human, is approximately one point eight meters tall, has blond hair, one brown eye, three large scars on his right cheek, and wears an eye patch. As his intentions are unknown, he is presumed to be dangerous. Kirk out."

The captain turned from the intercom and looked grimly at the man who had seen and failed to apprehend the intruder. Then he looked at the other security officers. "Split into parties of two and comb every inch of the ship. Report back to me on your progress every thirty minutes."

"Aye sir," the chief security officer, an Andorian named Goluk, said crisply.

As the security personnel began to disperse, Kirk placed a hand on the shoulder of the man who'd allowed the intruder to escape. "Find him, Rodriguez," the captain said encouragingly. "I know you can do it." As frustrated as he was with the man, Kirk knew his people performed best when properly motivated. Time and again he'd seen how a show of confidence from their captain could elicit tremendous results.

"You can count on me, sir," Rodriguez replied, determined not to disappoint his commanding officer.

"Good," he replied.

The wall intercom chirped. "McCoy to Captain Kirk."

"Kirk here."

"Captain, I have a patient here who'd like to talk to you. Now."

"Mr. Spock," Kirk said, "I think it's time for us to pay a visit to Sickbay."

IX.

Kim looked up as Kirk, Spock, and McCoy entered the ward.

"The doctor tells me you wanted to speak to me," Kirk said.

"Your intruder is my husband," Kim said; the realization that Ron was on board had set her spirits soaring. "I'd like to ask him to surrender."

"The intruder is your husband?" Kirk echoed while Kim tried not to smirk at the look of disappointment on the Starfleet legend's face. "And how did he get on board my ship? And while we're at it, how did you get on board my ship?"

Kim had already concluded that she was going to have to take Kirk into her confidence if she, and now Ron, were to return to the 24th century.

"Trelane," she answered simply.

"Well, that would explain her recovery," McCoy noted.

"Fascinating," Spock said.

"You know Trelane?" a surprised Kirk asked; the existence of the erstwhile Squire of Gothos and his kind was supposed to be highly classified information.

"No," Kim said truthfully. "But we do know others who we believe are of his kind. Ron and I have had dealings with one of them on more than one occasion."

"And this being sent you here?" Kirk asked.

"Mmm hmm," Kim said. "It was his idea of an April Fool's joke," she added sourly.

"Captain, that does comport with Trelane's past actions," the Vulcan said. "It is possible that capricious and self-indulgent behavior at the expense of others intended to provide amusement is characteristic of other members of his species."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," Kirk said with slight exasperation before he turned to Kim. "Ms. Stoppable, I don't mean to be rude, but just who are you?" the captain asked. "Starfleet has no record of you."

"Actually," Kim said gingerly, "Starfleet in this time has no record of me."

"That, if true, along with your knowledge of Trelane, would indicate you have traveled from the future," Spock observed.

"That's right," Kim admitted. "My name is Kim Stoppable and I do serve in Starfleet …"

"So you're telling me you really are a lieutenant," Kirk said.

"Captain, actually," she said as she stared Kirk in the eye. "I'm sure you'll understand if I don't say anything more about that; I'd rather not contaminate the time stream any more than is necessary."

"Please don't take this the wrong way, Ms. Stoppable," Kirk said, not quite ready to concede to Kim her rank in Starfleet or status as a time traveler. "But how do I know you aren't lying?" Kirk asked. "You might be spies; that would explain how you know about Trelane. You could be working for the Orion Syndicate."

"We are so not working with the Syndicate," Kim said icily, making all three men wonder what kind of history might exist between the patient and the pirates.

"Captain, Ms. Stoppable's explanation, while seemingly improbable, is not implausible," Spock observed. "I believe that for the time being we should proceed under the assumption that she is being truthful."

"Thank you, Ambassador," Kim said gratefully.

"Ambassador?" McCoy snorted.

"My bad," Kim said as she reddened.

"Ambassador," Kirk said impishly. "I think it suits you, Mr. Spock."

McCoy rolled his eyes.

"The doctor appears to disagree with you, Captain," the Vulcan said.

"Oh no, Spock. I'm sure you'd be a fine diplomat," McCoy said in a tone that made clear he believed just the opposite.

"Do I detect sarcasm on your part, Doctor?" Spock remarked.

"Gentlemen," Kirk said in a bemused tone, "Perhaps we should leave Mr. Spock's diplomatic career for another day." He then turned to Kim. "Ms. Stoppable, while I would like to accept your offer of assistance …"

Kim looked at Spock and McCoy. "May I speak to Captain Kirk. Alone?"

The two officers looked at Kirk, who nodded, then retreated from the ward.

"I'm sure Doctor McCoy's already told you about my feet and legs," Kim said. "Those composites don't exist in your time."

"Assuming you have traveled in time," Kirk responded, "how do I know you're really a Starfleet officer?"

"Would you like to talk about General Order 7 and the Talosians?" she asked.

The expression on Kirk's face told Kim she had his attention.

"Or would you prefer we talk about the Omega Directive?"

"That information is restricted to admirals and captains," Kirk said.

"In your time and mine," Kim agreed. "Omega molecules are so dangerous that they can disrupt the fabric of subspace. I'd so like to know what that scientist was thinking when he created them."

"You're not the only one," Kirk said. "Unfortunately, nobody will ever know --"

"Since he blew himself up," Kim interjected.

Kirk looked at his visitor and considered everything she had said.

"Captain, I can understand why you're skeptical," Kim said sympathetically. "Time travel is so the drama. But you've done this and you know there's only so much I can tell you. Go with your gut. Is there any reason I'd be lying about this?"

Kirk pondered that. "No," he finally said. "There isn't."

"Then let me help you bring Ron in and get us out of here and back to where we belong."

Kirk looked at his visitor for a moment and smiled. "Okay, Captain, what do you have in mind?"

X.

"Ron …"

"Ow!" he cried out as he hit his head on a pipe; he'd not expected to hear Kim's voice. He was confused, relieved, and excited.

"… It's me, Kim, I'm on board and okay," she explained over the ship's PA system. "I don't know where you're hiding, but come out and find your way to Sickbay, please and thank you."

Ron's eyes opened wide at the mention of Sickbay. Worried about his wife's well being, he hurried to the nearest Jefferies tube exit and made his way to a corridor. A number of stunned crewmembers gaped at him. "Hey, uh, I need some directions …"

XI.

Ron was escorted into Sickbay by none other than Ensign Rodriguez.

"Where's Kim?" Ron asked Christine Chapel with urgency. The nurse, who smiled, pointed him towards the ward. He walked in and saw his wife with three strangers.

"KP!" he exulted.

"Hey, Ron," she replied warmly.

"Q is going down," he growled before his voice softened. "Are you okay? He told me …"

"I'm going to be okay," Kim said. "Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chapel are taking ferociously good care of me."

"Your wife is a model patient," McCoy said approvingly.

"Mr. Stoppable," Kirk said. "Welcome aboard the _Enterprise_. I'm Captain Kirk and this is my first officer, Mr. Spock."

"The _Enterprise_ …" Ron said. He was about to say something along the lines of 'what are the odds?' when he saw Kim discreetly shake her head 'no'. Ron wasn't the Federation's brightest citizen, but he'd learned over the years to pay attention to his wife. "Coolio."

"Captain, when can we begin working on getting Ron and me back to our time?" Kim asked.

"As soon as I say you're ready to leave Sickbay," McCoy said sternly. "I don't know about doctors of the future, but I'm not letting you go until you are ready to go."

Kim, despite herself, grinned. She knew Beverly would say the same thing in this situation.

"You win, Doctor," Kim conceded, knowing that sometimes resistance really was futile.

"He always does," Kirk said. "Mr. Spock, would you please see that Mr. Stoppable is given appropriate guest quarters?"

"Of course, Captain," Spock replied.

"Captain Stoppable, I think you'll understand if I excuse myself now," Kirk said.

"Of course," Kim replied. "A starship doesn't run itself."

Kirk nodded and left Sickbay.

"Mr. Stoppable, if you'll come with me," Spock said.

Kim and Ron locked eyes.

"You sure about this, KP? Maybe I should stay here …"

"Doctor?" Kim asked.

McCoy looked at Kim, then Ron.

"You can stay for fifteen minutes," the doctor said with a smile, "but then I want you out of here. While Captain Stoppable's—"

"It's Kim, Doctor," she interjected.

"And I'm Ron," Ron added.

"Then I insist you call me Leonard or Bones," the CMO said with a warm grin. "Now, as I was saying, while Kim's recovery may have been miraculous, it wasn't complete and she needs to rest during the osteoregeneration process."

"I'm all about Kim recovering," Ron said enthusiastically.

Kim smiled at her husband, relieved to be both alive and reunited with the man she loved.

Ron leaned in, gave her a kiss on the lips, and gently brushed her cheek. "You know you're still beautilicious," he said softly, not caring that she was still bruised.

"And you're still full of it," she replied fondly.

"Hey, I resemble those remarks!" Ron said with mock indignation.

"You are so weird," Kim observed.

"I've heard that before!" Ron replied chipperly.

McCoy had withdrawn from the ward to give Kim and Ron some privacy and joined the Vulcan, who had already retreated to the CMO's office.

"There's nothing like two people in love, Spock," the doctor observed.

"Indeed, Doctor, you are correct," Spock agreed.

McCoy seemed shocked. "Did I just hear you right? Don't tell me you're finally turning into a romantic!"

Spock cocked an eyebrow as he returned McCoy's gaze. "Hardly, Doctor. Logically, two people in love would be a unique state of emotional being. Therefore, nothing else could be like it."

McCoy was about to respond when the intercom chirped.

"This is the captain. All senior officers report to the main briefing room. Kirk out."

_To Be Concluded …_


	31. Bonus: Naco On The Edge of Forever 4

If you saw it on _KP_, it belongs to Disney; on _Star Trek_, it's Paramount's.

Thanks to campy for his assistance.

As always, leave a review, get a response beamed directly to your email box!

* * *

I.

"Okay, Mr. Stoppable, you'll have to leave now," ordered Doctor M'Benga, who was in charge of Sickbay now that McCoy had left with Spock.

"I'll see you later, KP," Ron said as he reluctantly rose from his chair.

"Try to stay out of trouble, okay?" Kim joked.

"Me? Trouble? Never!" Ron jested in return.

Kim snorted.

Ron tried to look indignant but couldn't help grinning. He then leaned over, ran his fingers through Kim's bangs and kissed her on the forehead. "Love you," he said softly.

"Back atcha," she replied. "Now get out of here so they can run these treatments. I so want to go home."

M'Benga watched Ron leave, then turned to Kim, a hypospray in hand. "I'm going to give you another sleep aid before I begin this part of your treatment."

"I'm ready," Kim said.

M'Benga pressed the medical device against her arm and moments later she was asleep.

II.

Kim woke with a start as the alert blared throughout the great starship.

She looked around. She was no longer in a biobed in the original Enterprise's Sickbay; instead, she was in her bed on the Enterprise-E with Ron beside her. She shook her head as her tousled-headed husband woke up. _What a ferociously weird dream_, she thought. _We're so going to have to talk about that Diablo sauce Ron insists on putting in the chimeritos …_

Kim quickly set aside thoughts of food and dreams, however as she activated the comm unit by her bedside.

"Bridge, this is the Captain," she said "What's the sitch?"

"A Borg cube has just dropped out of trans-dimensional space, Sir," the officer on duty replied.

"I'm on my way," she said. "Stoppable out."

Kim and Ron exchanged a glance. He jumped out of the bed and hurried to the adjoining cabin in which their twins were sleeping.

Kim, meanwhile, pressed another button on the comm unit. "This is Captain Stoppable speaking," she announced to her crew. "All hands to battle stations. Repeat: all hands to battle stations. We are about to engage the Borg."

By the time Kim had donned her duty uniform, Ron had roused the children and now held each of the toddlers by the hand. "Take care of Johnny and Mim or you are so busted," she whispered to him as the family of four embraced.

"Will do, KP," he replied softly. "And don't forget – I've got your back."

"I know," she said, before she broke the hug and hurried to her bridge, knowing her husband would fight to the death before he let any danger come to their progeny.

III.

"Multiphasic shielding is operational," Yori announced, "and all weapons are on-line."

Kim nodded then pressed the comm button on the arm of her command chair. "Mr. O'Brien, sitch me."

"The warp core's secure, Captain," the Irishman replied. "Multi-variant, oscillating shields are functioning at 100 percent."

Kim switched channels.

"Dr. Crusher, status report?"

"We're ready for casualties, Captain. Emergency medical service teams have been deployed throughout the ship."

"Mr. Nog?" Kim then inquired of her helmsman.

"Redundant navigational systems are engaged," Nog announced. "We're prepared should main navigation be hit."

Kim looked at her first officer, who returned her gaze.

"With all of our improvements," Tuvok said, "I estimate a 87.23 percent chance of prevailing in this encounter."

"I can work with that," she replied as she considered the Federation's past encounters with this most determined and deadly of foes. "Take us in, Mr. Nog," Kim ordered. "One quarter impulse."

"Aye, Sir," the Ferengi said. "One quarter impulse."

Kim looked at her chronometer, then to her Vulcan first officer, and grinned.

IV.

"This was the crew's best performance since we left Space Dock, Possible-sama," Yori said. "It is most doubtful that any other ship in the fleet could even approach our readiness."

Kim smiled with satisfaction at her security chief. Long gone were the days when Yori Tanaka was someone she considered a foe. Service together in the Dominion War had changed that, allowing the ninja to regain the trust and confidence of her onetime cabin mate, who was now her commanding officer.

"Spankin'," Kim replied, falling into slang from her teen days. "Keep up the good work."

"I do not understand the relevance of corporal punishment to this situation," a clearly confused Tuvok said.

"Captain, may I?" an enthusiastic Nog requested.

"Please and thank you," she said, bemused by the oddly fraternal bond that had been forming between the Vulcan and Ferengi.

"It's an Earth colloquialism," the young Ferengi explained knowingly. "It means the Captain is pleased."

Kim nodded her head in confirmation of what her helmsman had just said.

"I see," Tuvok replied, his arched eyebrow making it clear to one and all that he found such linguistic oddities to be illogical.

"Anything else?" Kim asked her senior officers and bridge crew. When none said anything, she rose from her place at the head of the conference table. "Well, then, tell your people they did the _Enterprise-E_ proud. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to bed."

V.

After Ron tucked each of the twins under their covers and gave each a kiss on the forehead, he turned off the lights and returned to the main sleeping cabin. There he found Kim sitting on their bed, wearing his old high school football jersey. She'd claimed it as her nightwear shortly after they were married. Even though the garment was frayed, even threadbare in places, and would no longer withstand daily use, she still pulled it out when she was feeling romantic.

"I'm pretty sure that's not standard issue," Ron said as he sat down next to his wife.

"And you became an expert on Starfleet uniform regulations when?" she asked playfully.

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, you got me," he confessed.

"You bet I do," she purred as she pulled him in for a slow kiss.

"Booyah," he said when it was over.

Kim and Ron lay there, looking at one another. She began to play with one of his ears. He was surprised when her expression began to grow pensive.

"What's up, KP?"

She remained silent, then kissed him again. "It's awful to be away from someone you love."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he agreed. "I knew you had to be on the bridge, but …"

"Not just that, Ron," she said. "I had the weirdest dream. It started out horribly."

"Man, I did, too," he said, wrapping his arms around his wife. "You, you …" he stammered, not wanting to even utter the words.

"I was dead, wasn't I?" she said softly.

Ron nodded. "But then you weren't," he said, his relief clearly discernible. "You'd gone …"

"… Back in time," she said. "To Kirk's _Enterprise_."

"Yeah …" Ron said before he slapped his head. "Not another shared dream! When will it stop?"

"Who knows," she said. Beverly Crusher and Deanna Troi, among others, could still not come up with an explanation for the unpredictable, shared, subconscious experiences that Kim and Ron shared. "We haven't had one of those in a while, have we?"

"Nope," Ron answered. "Man, that last one ... It still tanks that Jon never found Mim."

"At least you found me," Kim said reassuringly.

"Hey, Rondo knows a good thing when he sees it," he replied. Enjoying the comfort of holding Kim, he began to relax. Then a goofy grin began to spread across his face.

"Okay, spill," she said, as she shifted and propped herself on her elbow.

"I was just thinking how good you looked in that Starfleet miniskirt," Ron confessed. "Sure, those old uniforms were sexist, but talk about babealicousness …"

Kim smirked at Ron. "I don't know if I should be offended or flattered."

"Kim, Kim, Kim," Ron said. "You know I'm all about the flattering, never about the offending."

"Good," she said as she snuggled next to him. "Make sure it stays that way."

"Should I take that as an order?" he responded.

"Please and thank you," Kim said before she cupped Ron's face in her hands and drew him in for another kiss …

_The End._


End file.
